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The Itinerary of 

AZARIAH FrEJOLITY 



or 



What Becomes of 
Old Barbers 

By 

AZARIAH FrEJOLITY 



COPYRIGHT 1908 BY 
WILLIAM A. AUGUSTINE 



luBrtABY of 0<JNv-ii5.ESS*> 

I Str 8 ^i*^« 






PREFACE 



The opportunity presented itself to me for 
composing a portion of the matters and things, 
ifs, ands, and wherefores, of my ten years' 
experience as a barber and otherwise. 

The otherwise experience added to these 
matters and things, ifs, ands, and wherefores, 
will give to the barbers an idea of how I 
passed along the line from San Diego, Cali- 
fornia, to San Diego, California, by the way 
of Boston and Truxillo, Honduras, Central 
America; and will bring back to them their 
lost marbles and cause their wheels to revolve 
more smoothly; will also give the same results 
to the public at large. 

Abraham Brokew, the miUionaire plow 
maker, awarded five thousand dollars to a 
poor man who enlivened his declining years 
with cheerful stories. He well knew that a 
laugh not only lengthens life, but enriches it. 
It routs the dismal gloom shadows and lets in 
the sunshine. 

Read Azariah Frejolity's ifs, ands, and where- 
fores. 



(V) 



INCIDENTS OF CONTENTS 



PAOB 

CHAPTER I. 
Azariah Frejolity leaves his home and learns the Bar- 
ber's Trade 9 

CHAPTER II. 
Gray Horses and soldiers — Shorty and the circus.... 11 

CHAPTER III. 
Sap's thumb in a dude's eye 21 

CHAPTER IV. 
The Barber's School and the slaughter — A one dollar 
tip brought stronger soap suds — A slippery rock 
caused ugly faces 31 

CHAPTER V. 
Rhiney behind a rambler saw an Irishman's mug — A 

midnight swim 57 

CHAPTER VI. 
Lazarus and the City of Jericho 73 

CHAPTER VII. 
Billy got the hatchet — Hair pullers and the battlefield 85 

CHAPTER VIII. 
Pigtails and bullets 103 

CHAPTER IX. 
Chink-eye's girl and her pile of relief — A white fish, 
a salt water ducking, and an explanation of Tim- 
othy's relation to Alaska, Fort Yucon and the Yu- 
con River 119 

CHAPTER X. 
A live corpse out on the farm — Joseph Stubbs on 

Marco Bozzarris — Slobbermouth and his pup 147 

CHAPTER XI. 
Whoa, Sal! but Sal did not stop 181 

CHAPTER XII. 
Died game in the mountains of Honduras — I stuck like 
a porous plaster and shook like a Kansas bliz- 
zard — At home, the tallow candle and corn cakes 

— A letter to Glenn Holcumb near Boston, Mass. 

— It tore from center to circumference — The 
birds, the flowers, and two bugs in a jug 198 

(vii) 



CHAPTER I. 

My name is Azariah Frejolity. I was born 
in Southern California, down by the sad ocean 
waves, on March loth, 1866. At the age of 
eighteen I became very much dissatisfied with 
my surroundings, and I determined to shake 
the dust off of my No. 10 cow-hides, go to 
some city and get a position of some kind. 
I had managed to save up about forty dollars, 
so with that and my little bundle of clothing 
I bid my father and mother good-bye, perhaps 
forever. 

1 did not know to what city I was going 
when I left home, but finally landed in San 
Francisco. 

Before looking for a position 1 thought it 
best to get a hair cut and a shave, as I re- 
sembled a young rat around the mouth. In 
strolling leisurely around the city I observed 
a rather nice looking tonsorial parlor and in I 
went, stood there like a stork, first on one 
leg then on the other. Presently the man at 
the rear chair called out **next" and nodded 
for me to come. I went, and it was but a 
short time until 1 had told him very nearly all 
that I knew, and something of what I intended 



10 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

doing. He seemed very much pleased with 
me and my ambition to do something, and 
asked me how I would like to learn the bar- 
ber's trade? I told him all right, and that I 
thought I would like it very much. At that 
saying he hired me for a term of three years. 

I learned quite rapidly, and by the time 
those three years had elapsed 1 had become a 
full fledged barber, able to hold any job down 
in the way of my profession that 1 might take. 

I had saved in those three years of appren- 
ticeship just seventy dollars, and being of a 
roaming disposition determined on a trip 
through a few of the states and also abroad; 
Honduras, Central America, being my choice 
of the distant countries. 

Time always seemed short to me, so I 
mapped out my route and one that I thought 
would be most fortunate for me in getting 
employment at good wages, and to remain 
but one year in each city. 

I am going to give the readers of this book 
some of my experience as a barber, and 
otherwise, with the haps and mishaps in a 
few of the principal cities of the United States 
and Central America. 



CHAPTER II. 

Leaving San Francisco, the Golden City, on 
April the fifteenth, 1887, for Denver, Colorado, 
and getting a position to my satisfaction at 
fourteen dollars per week, elated me with the 
prospects of my undertaking. I thought that 
pretty good for a starter, with the fun that I 
was having and would have when not on 
duty. So often while working at my chair I 
was asked by the trade, "what becomes of 
old Barbers ? " 

1 told them that I thought they turned into 
Gray Horses and soldiers; for ninety per 
cent, of them become so in the habit of play- 
ing horse and soldiering around their chair, 
that they gradually drift with time and we see 
them no more. Where do they go ? We do 
not hear of their death, we have not buried 
them, therefore, I say, some of them must be 
unfortunate and are pulling the drays, delivery 
wagons and otherwise; then corn and hay 
takes the place of spring chicken and porter- 
house steak. 

Now, all you barbers that haven't as yet 
made this turn, beware, either quit the busi- 
ness or quit soldiering and playing horse while 
11 



12 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

working at your chair. This turn comes like 
a "thief in the night," and had I remained in 
the business eighteen or twenty years longer, I, 
perhaps, would be numbered with the old 
Grays and working in some elevator or farm- 
ing in general. 

If such had been my lot and my master had 
worked me on the thirteen or fourteen hour 
system (as I have done many a time in the 
different shops) and allowed me from one-half 
to three quarters of an hour for my corn and 
hay, I think at my first opportunity I would 
have taken a kick at his mug and then gone 
for some clearing. 

I found in my ten years' experience as an 
artist that almost invariably the working pro- 
prietors of shops teach their hired help the 
art of playing horse and soldiering. Therefore, 
they are responsible for the result and should 
have a few Spanish Hot Drops for their tired 
feelings. How well I remember my second 
discovery of old Grays. It was in Denver 
during my stay there. I discovered three that 
had made the turn. I don't suppose I would 
have seen them had it not been for a fire 
alarm. Two of them were hitched to a hose 
cart and were coming down street quite rap- 
idly, (as barbers usually do). I was standing 
in the shop door, and as they came up I gave 
them the sign. Rather a sudden stop took 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 13 

place, so sudden that the driver was thrown 
to the street with his left arm fractured and 
with the Grays trying to free themselves from 
the grasp of four or five robust citizens. This 
"dido" of the Grays was a stunner to the 
driver. I knew the secret but kept it under 
my hat. I thought there might be more fun 
in store for me. 

The third Gray was owned by a wealthy 
merchant in the city and kept for his family 
driver. Say, he was as smooth as a mole, 
and not a trace of a landscape could be seen 
•on his felt. He must have been a good artist 
in his time, and deserved a better position 
than he was holding. But like lots of others, 
he drifted with time. 

I admired the city of Denver very much, 
and its beautiful scenery surrounding it. But 
more than all, its beautiful rosy cheeked 
maidens who gave me comfort in times of 
houie-sickness; which was often quite severe. 
I got along very nicely with the trade in the 
shop, barring a few little jangles which bar- 
bers usually have with swell heads and cranks. 
Soon my year in Denver came to a close and 
bidding all my friends a kind good-bye, I left 
for St. Louis. 

On my arrival in this city, the first thing I 
did was to hunt up a nice, neat boarding- 
house, with easy terms, which I soon found. 



14 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

After placing my little bundle of clothing in the 
chamber that I was to occupy, I meandered 
around a portion of the business part of the 
city, sizing up all the barber shops that I 
came to. As it was late in the afternoon I 
thought I would not inquire for work until 
the following morning. Morning came, I ate 
my breakfast, lit a cigar and started out. The 
first shop 1 struck was a four chaired one 
with a Jew as master of the situation. 1 asked 
for nothing, but turned and started out. The 
old Jew squalled, "you're next." I turned 
and said, "next to what?" "Why, next to 
get shaved." "Who wants to get shaved?" 
said I. At that he threw a large chew of fine 
cut tobacco at me, striking my shirt front. 1 
picked it off, returned the fire and lodged it 
back of the old man's ear. Lord, but he 
roared, and I pushed down street toward my 
boarding-house like an automobile. I did not 
come out again until the next morning, think- 
ing by that time all would be well. 

The next shop I went into was a six chaired 
one with a very polite German proprietor. I 
noticed one of the chairs shoved to the wall, 
so I struck him for a job. He wanted a man 
and would pay me eleven dollars a week for 
the first two weeks, then thirteen. All right, I 
went to work. Liked the proprietor and hired 
help, they were all jolly good fellows. On 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 15 

Thursday morning of the third week as I was 
going down to the shop, I spied four Gray 
horses; three of them were hitched to Express 
wagons, seemingly waiting for a job, and the 
fourth one was hitched to an ice-wagon. I, 
of course, meandered in that direction. When 
I came up to where they were standing, I 
stopped, feeling that i would like to know 
whether they had made the turn. By the 
way, it is easy to distinguish the difference 
between a horse that's been a horse from its 
foal and one that has made the turn — stand at 
the rear end of a Gray horse and say, "Spring 
Chicken or Hay." If he has made the turn, 
back will go his ears, his rear ticklers ascend 
heavenward, and if you are near enough to 
him he will give you something long to be 
remembered. You see, they learned this (I 
mean the kick) from the trade, while working 
at the chair. There is also another way to 
distinguish the difference. I'll tell you. While 
these four Grays were standing there in the 
hot sun without netting and fighting the flies 
to beat the band, I walked up in front of the 
three abreast, pulled back the right breast 
of my coat, disclosing to them the neck of 
a flask that I had in my inside pocket. They 
recognized the same by coughing, and their 
ears worked as if on joints. Of course, they knew 
what was in the flask, for ninety-nine out of 



16 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

every one hundred have met and are thor- 
oughly acquainted with Old John Barley Corn. 
I asked the man that owned them where he 
made the purchase ? And he said at Mil- 
waukee. I arrived at the shop quite late, had 
a fuss with the boss and quit work for the 
day. 

I was working on the last chair, and the 
man at the second chair was also laying off 
that day, or afternoon rather. So we jogged 
along together, took a little nip of John Bar- 
ley Corn, then were ready for the circus. His 
shop name was Shorty, and it struck him 
proper, for he was about as wide out as he 
was long. We traveled a few squares a-foot 
and became pretty well warmed up. Shorty 
puffed, blowed, wiped off the perspiration, 
then addressed me this way: *'Say, Frejolity, 
let's beer up." So, the first place we came 
to that smelled like a saloon, in we went, 
and out we came, jagged up for any and all 
occasions. It was show day. Sells Bros, were 
in town. So we walked no farther, but 
boarded the first street car out to the show- 
ground. It was pretty well crowded and 
Shorty in some way got pushed overboard. 
I suppose the jag had a great deal to do with 
it; anyhow, the driver stopped and Shorty 
again boarded the car not worsted very much 
by the fall. It's hard to hurt a drunken man. 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 17 

especially if the drunk is operating nicely. 
Well, we finally reached the show ground 
and the band was playing a swift piece. Pro- 
curing our tickets we at once entered the 
animal tent. Shorty had his lid pulled down 
over his head so far that it shoved his ears 
out like a couple of bats. I told him that if 
he did not adjust that lid to its right position 
and let it remain that way, 1 would desert 
him; for the guyings were getting too num- 
erous to suit me. Well, I guess we saw the 
animals, although some of them were rather 
small for our vision. The elephants of course 
we could figure out all right, but the small 
animals and birds looked like rats and robins. 
We next entered the circus tent. Everything 
was hustle and bustle. Two rings operating in 
full blast. We took our position close to 
the ground, that means a low seat. We could 
see objects in the air but could not tell what 
they were. I asked Shorty for his opera 
glasses and he said "he had loaned them to his 
pet." "What pet do you mean Shorty?" 
said 1. 

"Oh, my little woonsey toonsey up town." 

"Say, Shorty, is there a girl in this city 
that would insult her parents by associating 
with a man of your caliber ? " 

"Yep, she would," said he. 

"Well then. Shorty, please tell the Court 



18 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

her nationality, and is she a white or a col- 
ored lady ?" 

"Well, Mr. Frejolity, 1 think she has black 
hair and lives down on the street that runs 
into the boulevard." 

"Say, Shorty, what in thunder is the matter 
with you! I don't care anything about the 
color of her hair, neither do I care anything 
about the street that runs into the boulevard. 
Tell me her color and nationality. I would 
be pleased to know what kind of a choice 
you have made." Just at that instant a fierce 
gale of wind struck the tent and I thought it 
would surely tear it to pieces. A panic took 
place with the women in the lead on the 
alarm. I shook Shorty, got him pretty thor- 
oughly aroused, and by that time the rain 
was falling and some of the tent poles also. 
Unluckily for Shorty, quite a large pole 
broke in-two, perhaps in the middle, the upper 
half striking Shorty across the back of the 
neck, kilHng him almost instantly. I was 
awfully frightened and my jag quickly left me. 
I knew the charge belonged to me, so when 
the storm was over I phoned for the coroner 
and an ambulance and had him taken to his 
stopping place. I then telegraphed his father 
at Omaha, Nebraska, reported the same down 
at the shop, procured all of Shorty's tools, 
took them down to his boarding-house and 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 19 

awaited the arrival of his father. He came on 
the following day and took the remains to its 
final resting place at Omaha, Neb. And this 
man Shorty was the second dead barber that 
I ever knew of. Well, I went to work the 
next day after Shorty was taken away and it 
went tough, although my razors worked 
nicely; for there was not one man that took 
my chair that made a kick. 

I did not go to any more menageries or 
circuses for some time, but attended strictly 
to business. Time seemed to drag along 
quite slowly after Shorty's death, but my year's 
labor in St. Louis soon ended, and bidding 
my friends and acquaintances farewell, 1 boarded 
a train bound for Chicago, the Windy City. 



CHAPTER III. 

The first thing I did when I reached Chicago, 
was to find another good boarding-house. 1 
was not much of a hotel man, as their prices 
on porter-house and vegetables were too rich 
for my stomach. Anyhow, I found a nice 
boarding-house and a nice German lady to 
board with. "By the way, her hub was a bar- 
ber and running a five chaired shop pretty 
well out." When he came to supper 1 asked 
him if there was an opening for a man at the 
shop. He said there was, or would be in the 
morning, as one of the men would quit that 
night. So, in the morning the proprietor and 
1 started for the shop. 1 bargained with him 
at twelve dollars a week and half of the excess 
above twenty. I had an elegant man to work 
for and attended strictly to business for about 
four months. One Monday morning I thought 
1 would take a little outing, see what was 
going on, and hoped that 1 might find a few 
Gray horses or old soldiers. 1 was told that 
the city was rather swift and to watch my 
bearings for all kinds of funny things were 
liable to happen. 

1 had walked perhaps three squares, had 

21 



22 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

made the turn on another street and observed a 
small Gray coming toward me, so I stopped and 
waited until he came closer. "Say, he looked 
as though he had just returned from South 
Africa." I showed him the bottle and he gave 
that cough; that settled it. His harness was 
of the old style with the breeching torn in 
two and tied together with a piece of whang 
leather and he was pulling a load of old rubbish. 
I hailed ''Hello there, Bill." He again looked 
my way and gave that cough the second time. 
He well knew that I recognized him. His 
Barber name was Billy Kidney from San Fran- 
cisco. Poor fellow. Whenever Bill was on 
the hog and wanted a little coin to buy a 
drink, he always gave me that cough. When 
sober, he was an excellent barber, but his 
pets were many and asked too much extra 
work of him for the price they paid; the 
result was, that his week's salary averaged 
him but eight and one-half dollars. This was 
at sixty cents on the dollar. "Quite small, 
isn't it?" And now he is pacing here and 
there on his uppers. The next one that I had 
the pleasure of seeing, — excuse me please for 
using the word pleasure, but in this case it is 
necessary that I should — was a tall, lantern- 
jawed iron Gray, one that I suppose learned 
his trade when quite old in some Barber's 
school. I think he had the very cheapest of 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 23 

tin razors to work with, for I could see that 
he had done a great deal of hard pulling in 
his time. Just think of it, sixty days and he 
had his trade complete. No wonder he was 
suffering with the heaves. I looked for gout 
but no traces of it could be found. I guess 
he ate oatmeal instead of cake. His right foot 
was twisted half way around, caused, I sup- 
pose, by locking it around the chair leg to 
assist him with his pulling. I think he has 
now returned to the farm, for he was hitched 
by the side of a light sorrel and to a wagon 
load of corn fodder with a sort of a Zeke for 
a driver. I hailed, "hello there, Mike." He 
had not forgotten his name, it was Mike Perdy. 
He lived and moved any place. I also met 
him at San Francisco before the thief came. 
I said to him, "Well, Mike, you are num- 
bered with the Grays." He nodded, "yes." 
I then returned to the shop, well pleased with 
my success. I had become somewhat acquainted 
with a httle bit of the city, and a few brother 
barbers. After remaining attentive to my 
work for some time over three months, I then 
took another Monday's lay-off. I left my 
boarding-house at 8:30 A. M., ran pat for the 
Hay Market. I hadn't walked more than one 
square until I met a barber friend by the 
name of Sap that worked in the same shop 
that I did. He was also laying off that day. 



24 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

Why, you will know later on. We had 
worked side by side ever since I struck the 
city, and after closing hours we used to stroll 
out together. But on this special morning he 
was quite cross and crabbed and looked as 
though he had been into a brawl of some 
kind. He finally told me that he had gotten 
into a little fuss with his girl, and that she 
had somewhat disfigured him. 1 thought so 
myself, for he had a long deep scratch from 
the outer corner of his right eye down to his 
lip; done I suppose with a hat pin. One cor- 
ner of his moustache was also gone. The 
loss of that and the way it was taken out 
caused the blood to settle in the pores of the 
skin, leaving a blood shot spot just the size 
of the hair he had lost. No wonder he was 
cross. 1 suppose 1 would have been the 
same under the same circumstances. Anyhow, I 
said, *'Sap, let's go take a drink, then we will 
wend our way down to the Hay Market." 
He hesitated at first, but finally concluded 
to go. We took a drink, then boarded the 
first car out. We had just reached the second 
square when all of a sudden our car ran into 
a large gray mule, being led by a little sawed 
off Dutchman. It killed the mule instantly. 
The car went its way, but we remained for 
the inquest; for we discovered the turn had 
taken place with him. Sap said, "he must have 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 25 

been employed in by-gone days, or had oper- 
ated a shop in some large hotel, for his hair was 
parted in the middle." The Dutchman received 
from the company seventeen dollars and the 
carcass. ''Who knows but what a part of that 
same mule came back to our boarding-house 
in the form of sausage or Wiener-Wurst ? " We 
were yet two squares from the Market and no 
car in sight, so we concluded to walk the 
remaining distance. On reaching our destin- 
ation we did not find it just as we expected; 
instead of the market being heavy it was just 
the reverse. Of course, we did not care to 
buy either corn or hay, thought perhaps we 
might see some old Grays that we knew, 
but found nothing. Sap said we were too 
far from Kansas City. I said, "let's take a 
drink; and the first car that goes our way 
we will go with it." While riding along the 
thought struck me that it would be a change 
to take a lay-off for four or five days, run 
down to Indianapolis and have a time with 
the little Hoosier gals. So I proposed the trip 
to Sap, and he almost fainted. Finally he 
said, "I can't leave my baby." 

"Say, Sap, can't you possibly leave the kid 
for a few days, if you cannot, then tell me 
the reason why ? " 

He looked up with a sort of a smile on his 
face and said, "there is a great big puncher 



26 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

that comes over here occasionally from Peoria, 
who is ram pat on beating my time. 1 must 
remain here to protect my interests." That 
remark seemed very funny to me, and I told 
him that by the looks of his face and with 
a few more scraps with that baby of his, he 
would soon be ready to pass in his checks. 
And the best thing for him to do was to give 
up the chase, settle down and save his money; 
for sometime, if he did not get money enough 
ahead to quit barbering, a change might take 
place. We had arrived at our stopping place, 
and with his promise that he would take my 
advice we parted. Morning came, and 1 lag- 
ged off up to the shop, meeting Sap at the 
door with "Hello, Sap, how are you this 
morning?" 

''All right, Frejolity, all right." 

"Then you are feeling much better than you 
did yesterday." 

"Oh, yes, and am ready for any and every- 
thing that comes my way." 

Just at that moment there was a big moon- 
faced Jew came in for a shave. You ought 
to have seen Sap squirm and twist. He 
combed his hair, washed his hands, brushed 
his shoes, and did everything possible to get 
out of shaving that Jew. I took the moon- 
face into my chair and while lathering him 
sang two lines of "There was an old Soldier 
who had a wooden leg." "Gee, but Sap got 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 27 

hot. I didn't care, for I always took my men 
just as their turn came, until they got so 
numerous that I said I would do the same." 
So I played horse and soldier all the way to 
Boston, and until my year had come to a 
close in that same city. Sap had caught a 
light beard and was giving him the fmishing 
touch, I was doing likewise on the moon. 
At that moment another hard beard came in. 
1 looked at Sap, Sap looked at me. The other 
men that were working were not far enough 
along with their customers to catch the squir- 
rel that had just entered the shop, so it lay 
between Sap or me to shave him. Playing 
horse and soldiering commenced at once. 
Presently Sap squalled, ''Say Frejolity, howls 
your wooden leg?" Of course the boys in 
the shop laughed and so did 1. But at the 
same time I felt a little bit warm; for 
without any soldiering by either of us. Sap 
would have caught him. Anyhow, 1 shaved 
the man, and before the day came to a close 
Sap had his share of the old squirrels, as I 
worked for them to catch his chair at any 
and all opportunities. Sap's supply of razors 
was limited. I think he had three, perhaps 
four, and the work in the shop that day had 
been a rusher; not giving him a chance to 
touch them up. The result was, they became 
quite smooth before the shop closed. The 
last man he caught that night was a youngish 



28 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

like fellow, wearing a silk hat, kid gloves, 
cane in one hand, cigarette in the other. 
There were three of the chairs idle and of the 
three he chose Sap's; that pleased me, for I 
saw at a glance that he must be handled with 
care or he would burst. Sap adjusted his 
chair and his man went into position for the 
operation. Placing the towel (which was a 
little small), around his neck, not quite cov- 
ering his shirt front, he then prepared his 
lather and commenced. The first lathering 
was all right, but during the second lathering 
after the rub, he raised with his brush quite a 
good sized piece of soap which fell from his 
brush, struck the dude's shirt front, slipped down 
under his vest and displayed quite a good 
deal of lather as it went. It was then eight 
o'clock; the key had been turned in the door 
and the dude was reading Sap the riot act. 
He would not accept of an apology from Sap, 
and the argument was waxing warm. 1 
thought I would not retire from the shop but 
wait the result, as my services might be 
needed. I never was known to desert a brother 
workman although he be in the wrong; that 
is, in a civil case. Presently Sap caught him 
under the gill with the fmgers of his left hand, 
giving him a severe slap in the face with his 
right. The dude made a struggle for liberty, 
broke a set of three dollar bottles and cracked 
a fine French plate mirror. Sap loosened, and 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 29 

they clinched. It was nip and tuck for a while, 
finally Sap pressed his thumb in the dude's 
eye and in some way the dude caught Sap's 
little finger between his teeth, and both yelled 
like Indians. When we thought they had 
gone far enough we separated them. The 
dude looking like a fit subject for a poor 
house, while Sap made his exit out of the 
back door, looking very much the same. We 
tried to scare the dude into a settlement for 
the broken mirror and bottles, but he would 
not; and went out of the shop with revenge 
on his lips and his overcoat pockets filled 
with hair and old shaves. 

He never came back while I remained in 
that shop, but Sap turned up the next morn- 
ing all O. K. Always after that Sap would 
tell us what he would have done with that 
fellow had we not parted them. Just two 
weeks from the time of that fight my year in 
Chicago came to a close, and I would soon 
leave the Windy City which I did not care to 
do. I thought a great deal of my proprietor, 
also the hired help; for we all got along so 
nicely together. Of course, we would have 
a flare-up occasionally, but no hard feeling 
ever followed. 

As far as the city of Chicago is concerned, 
she's a city long to be remembered by Aza- 
riah Frejolity. 



CHAPTER IV. 

On the morning of my departure from Chi- 
cago, I went down to the shop. Bidding Mr. 
Reaves and the hired help good-bye, I started 
for Cincinnati, the Queen City. Arriving there 
in good shape I boarded a car for Fountain 
Square. At this square I stepped from the car 
feeling quite hungry and dirty and thought a 
little refreshments would be a good thing, 
after which I would get a hair cut and a 
shave, then have my clothes brushed up nicely. 
The first Inn I came to, in I went, sat down 
at a table and ordered an oyster-stew and a 
bottle of champagne. Of course, as I had never 
indulged in that beverage before, supposed it 
was about the same price as a bottle of beer. 
So I ate my oysters and drank my champagne, 
then I was ready to settle and said to the 
clerk, *'How much do I owe you?" 

His reply was, "let me see, one bottle of 
champagne and one oyster-stew. Five dollars 
and twenty-five cents." 

I thought to myself as I settled the bill, 
Great Guns, I'm being robbed. I then said 
to him, "What kind of material is that, that 
I just swallowed?" 

SI 



32 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

''Well, my friend," said he, " that is rather 
the best champagne that we can get, and we 
have profited by the sale we made to you just 
seventy-five cents." 

I felt quite sassy and remarked that 1 would 
furnish him with a carload of hard cider at 
five dollars a barrel. He warmed up and so 
did 1. He finally struck at me and his fist 
hit a passing breeze almost unjointing his 
shoulder. Well, 1 thought I had gone about 
far enough as I did not care to do anything that 
would cause my arrest. I went out growling 
as usual and believed at that time that I would 
never again order anything different from hop 
tea. I felt that I had lost a friend, and 1 
guess I did. For I always found that my 
money always served me better than any living 
friend. On reaching the street I began to fig- 
ure how to get part of that robbery back. 1 was 
determined to play part way even and would 
do so in the way of a hair cut and shave. 1 
would just hunt up that Barber's School and 
get my work done gratis, as 1 always had a 
desire to visit such a place of slaughter any 
way. So I made inquiry of a smallish like lad 
who was passing along the street with a bun- 
dle of papers under his arm, and his answer 
was, **How the h — do I know, I'm selling 
papers ? " I thought that sounded pretty fair, 
not any too fair, but fair enough for his 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 33 

training. So I inquired of a gentleman seem- 
ingly at leisure. He gave me the street and 
number, and on entering that tonsorial parlor 
1 met ten or twelve farmer barbers waiting 
for a victim. 1 took the first chair I came to 
and was right at that instant resting quite 
easy, for the slaughter had not yet commenced. 
"A hair cut and shave, please," said I. 

"Yes, sir; yes, sir;" said the farmer "and 
shall I use the clippers?" 

"Oh no, just a light trim." 

The spread was adjusted and the slaughter 
began. In just thirty minutes my hair was 
cut. Then for the shave. An old dirty towel 
was placed around my neck, back went the 
chair and up went the head-rest. I thought 
to myself, farewell to the sad ocean waves, 
but said nothing. All ready boys, and the 
way his knife butchered downward was a 
caution. The first incision that 1 felt was in 
front of my right ear caused by the point of 
his knife. I imagined it to be about one inch 
in length. 1 said nothing, and on down to 
the point of my chin he went, then made a 
curve down under my jaw taking off quite a 
large mole. I thought if 1 escaped it might be a 
good time to apply for a pension; that the Gov- 
ernment would not have known but what 1 
received those wounds in the Wilderness fight. 
1 must admit that 1 have soldiered quite a 
3 



34 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

good deal during my existence here on this 
little whirling ball of ours, but thanks to all 
nations, kindred and tongues, I never was a 
butcher. Well, the corn-husker that was try- 
ing to shave me had passed over on the other 
side of my face and was moving along like an 
eclipse on the sun. Perhaps it was such, if so, 
it was not quite total. The pulling, cutting, 
scratching and scraping of his razor was hurt- 
ing me like sin. I said to him, ''What brand 
of razor have you there ? " In reply he said, 
"Well sir, that is what 1 call a Loco." 

"Oh yes. Loco, that means motion.? Let 
me look at that knife please, as its work 
reminds me very much of an old-fashioned 
harrow that Pap used to use on his little farm 
way down by the sad ocean waves. It has 
the color of silver steel, but its weight is that 
of second grade tin." 

The expression on his face changed from 
corn-cob molasses to that of hard cider. He 
filled an old sponge with my blood corpuscles 
and then said: 

"Stranger, where do you live, and where 
are you going?" 

"Well, sir, Mr. Scraper, I am from way out 
by the sad ocean waves and am journeying 
slowly for the city of Truxillo, Honduras." 
Honduras was a sticker for him, but he finally 
said, "In the name of mud, where is Truxillo, 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 35 

Honduras?" I had become considerably dis- 
couraged and thoroughly disgusted with him 
and my disfigurements, and to make a long 
story short 1 told him that Honduras was way 
over there back of the moon. He got red, 
white and blue in his face, and replied: 

"Say, Mr. Man, don't get funny or I'll take 
a punch at your mug." 

He had gotten once over when this con- 
versation took place, and I told him that 1 did 
not think he could disfigure my mug much 
more than it was, if he did take a punch at 
it. I was a fright, looked as if 1 had been 
out in the brush and bramble snipe hunting, 
and that I was the one that got worsted. He 
finally smashed me one under the right eye, 
and I fell overboard on the floor. Rising to 
my feet, I at once grabbed the first thing in 
sight that was throwable, which was a small 
earthen cuspidor. It missed the scoundrel and 
struck a row of cheap bottles on the next 
shelf, or stand. I was considerably excited, 
and fearing the police I grabbed my coat and 
hat, then got a Chicago move on me for the 
door. And by the way it sounded there must 
have been a half dozen of those bloodthirsty 
Arabs after me. Bad luck seemed to stand in 
my way, for just at the time I thought my 
escape sure, I came in contact with a big 
Irish policeman and he took me in. With all 



36 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

my explanations to him he remained as firm 
as a bull pup; and took me to the station. 
And that station was the first hotel I put up 
at in Cincinnati. 

The next morning I sallied forth to take 
my medicine and the first question the judge 
asked me was, **What is your name and 
where do you live.?" 

"Your honor," said I, "my name is Azariah 
Frejolity, and I live here, there and over yon- 
der." He studied a moment, then said: 

"Well, that's rather a peculiar name indeed, 
and you live wherever you stop ? What is 
your occupation ? " 

"That of a barber, sir. And while jog- 
ing along I am keeping an eye on the old Gray 
horses." 

"Oh, then I shall consider you a horse 
thief, shall I?" 

"No, sir, I do not belong to that class; I 
am a gentleman." 

"Well, but how about this Gray horse bus- 
iness, I don't fully understand ? " 

"Your honor," said I, "you probably 
understand all that you will ever understand 
by me. I am not here to give you the his- 
tory of my life, please give me my fine 
and costs, I will pay you and retire from this 
court, as I have other business of more impor- 
tance to attend to." 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 37 

''Well, yes, by your looks," said the Judge, 
"I would imagine that you have a great 
plenty of business to attend to. Well, Mr. 
Frejolity, one more question and you will be 
discharged. Are you guilty of being drunk 
and disorderly }'* 

''Your honor, I am not guilty of being 
drunk, but I might have been a little disor- 
derly. 1 always was and I always will be, 
just noisy enough to try and protect myself in 
case of emergency. But I find that strangers 
mingling with strangers in this glorious land of 
ours, must suffer the results of their own pro- 
tection. So, Mr. Judge, you just blaze away 
and I'll act my part as a gentleman." 

"All right," said the Judge, "and now, Mr. 
Frejolity, as you are a stranger in our city, 
and met with a little misfortune, I will recog- 
nize you to be a truthful man and one that 
will make a very good citizen in your profes- 
sion; so I'll make your fine and costs just as 
light as possible which will be three-sixty." 
1 thanked him and handed over the stuff that 
gave me my freedom. Bidding the Judge aure- 
voir, I squeezed my carcass through a surging 
mass of hobos, and made a bee-line for some 
sort of a place to harbor and eat during my 
first and last year in Cincinnati. I soon found 
a very good boarding-house at four dollars 
per week, took it in and paid for one week 



38 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

in advance; as I had no baggage worth while 
speaking of, and my tools I carried in my 
pockets. The first thing I did before I looked 
for a job was to doctor up the slashes or cuts 
that were scattered promiscuously over my face. 
And the eye that that corn-husker hit me in, 
was of course, just about closed up. I must also 
get him open. Well, with plenty of warm 
water and a piece of Castile soap I managed 
to wash out every cut and bruise downward 
and around to that eye, which was the last 
organ I operated on. It was but a few days 
until I was all right and in good condition to 
go to work. I was determined to find a job 
at good wages, if I had to wait two weeks to 
get it. A scab shop I never worked in and 
I never would. I'll feed swine first. So, on 
Wednesday morning I made the start and 
found a position in the third shop that I struck 
at twelve dollars a week; it being a seven 
chaired shop and a beaut. I got along with 
the trade very nicely, also with the proprietor 
and hired help, but as the old saying goes, 
"A little jangle now and then is relished by 
the best of men." Sundays were the only 
days that 1 had out of the shop for very near 
five months, and I hardly knew what Cin- 
cinnati looked like. I had of course, become ac- 
quainted with a number of artists outside of our 
shop, and whenever or wherever we went, 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 39 

we usually had a good time. Well, I finally 
concluded to take a day olT (which was Mon- 
day of course), and felt that I was in good 
condition to meet all comers and goers. So 
after breakfast I started for the Zoological Gar- 
den; that is, I started, but thought I would 
look around awhile, that I might strike a friend 
at leisure to pass along the line with me. I 
found no one; so I took a car and went alone. 
1 don't think I had been in the garden more 
than twenty minutes until I heard a voice 
that sounded familiar to me and was saying, 
"Hello, there, Frejolity!" I turned to the 
call and to my surprise I was within a few 
paces of an old friend of mine from San Fran- 
cisco; and was the last man I would have 
looked for. I took him by the hand and we 
were as happy as a pair of millionaires. This 
man's name was Rhiney for short and Ray- 
mond for long. He was one of our customers 
when I was learning my trade, and was at 
that time what I called an all-around man and 
fortunate enough not to be a barber. Now 
what I mean by an all-around man is a sport, 
or Tiger Bucker. Always got money and out 
for a good time. I finally said, "Here Rhiney, 
be seated on this bench and we will have a 
little chat of by-gone days. When did you 
leave San Francisco, and where have you 
been ?" 



40 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

"Say, Frejolity, I can hardly tell you; a 
while here, and a while there. Am here in 
this city on a visit, and looking around you 
know. I am making my home at present at 
Indianapolis, and will return to that city this 
evening. Have now been here about one 
week. Am sorry that we did not meet ere 
this, for our time together will be short, when 
it should have been the reverse. I left San 
Francisco just one year later than you did. 
And you have now been absent from there 
close on to four years." 

" That's right, Rhiney, but how do you 
know so much with your coat tail off?" 

"Say, Frejolity, don't get funny, I see the 
old scamp sticks in you yet. How often I 
have thought of the cruelty you played on old 
Daddy Gray-back, out there in Frisco. Do 
you remember how he used to run out his 
feeler around the edges of his cavity to find 
if you had dug out all the bristles.^" 

"Rhiney, I believe that I have forgotten 
that circumstance." 

"Oh, no, Frejolity, you haven't, you can't 
come that on me. One day you were shaving 
him, out came that feeler and was traveling 
its course upward, downward and roundward. 
You made a pass at it, and caught the same 
on the point of your tally-ho. In it went like 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 41 

an alligator catching flies. He never came 
back." 

** Yes, Rhiney, I think I remember the circum- 
stance now. I used to get so out of patience 
with him, and yet, I liked the old fellow. 
Now, Rhiney, you must not go after me too 
hard or 1 might remind you of an original cir- 
cumstance on yourself." 

"Oh, no, Frejolity, I am an angel you 
know, and before you shall say anything 
about me or my character, I will just remind 
you of another little circumstance, for you 
know there are lots of circumstances in this 
world. Anyhow, this happened in the same 
shop and about the wind-up of your career in 
Frisco. You know you left in a few days 
after that for Denver, Colorado." 

"All right, Rhiney, go on with your little 
jokes." 

"Jokes, your neck, its a fact. I think it 
was on Tuesday. I was in the shop at the 
time. A big Jew came in for a shave. He 
was a traveling man, and caught your chair. 
If you remember the plate front was quite 
low, and yours was the first chair. Think it 
stood a little less than three feet from the 
window. You had the Jew lathered and half 
shaved. He was and had been kicking on 
your razor hurting him, and that it was too 
dull to cut Limburger cheese," 



42 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

"Now, Rhiney, I don't know about that, I 
never had much trouble in that way." 

" Hold on now Frejolity, you must wait. 
Just at that moment a dog fight started on 
the outside just in front of the window. You 
was working on the right side of your chair, 
the left side of his face, and the second time 
over. The fight became fast and furious. 
You raised your knife off of his face and on 
an angle with the Jew's nose and was watch- 
ing the fight. The Jew, also, became inter- 
ested and wanted to see it, and in turning his 
head caught the tip end of his smeller on the 
edge of your tally-ho, taking off a small slice 
of rind about the size of a shirt button. The 
dog fight ended then and there as far as your- 
self and the Jew were concerned. You at 
once laid down your tally-ho with the slice 
of the rind still sticking to the blade and 
the way you went for the back door was a 
fright, taking your coat and hat as you went. 
I followed you out as far as the alley, and 
there I lost your track." 

"Say, Rhiney, did you see that big Irish 
policeman make a dash for me ? I expect he 
thought 1 was some escaped lunatic. Never- 
theless, whenever one of those fellows get me 
on an occasion of that kind, or otherwise, 
where I would be liable to get my face 
polked, then you will see me take that old 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 43 

time pace to an exit of some kind. I now 
remember the circumstance. Say, Rhiney, 
what did that Jew say?" 

"Well, Frejolity, he reminded me very 
much of old man Johnson's bull, and the shop 
looked like a slaughter house. Blood all over 
the floor, towels, lap spreads, etc. I touched 
up his wound with a little styptic powder to 
check its bleeding, then he did roar, and drew 
back to strike me down, but Sam caught his 
arm. He finally quieted down, took his slice 
of rind that was stuck to your blade, and 
started for a doctor's office." 

"Say, Rhiney, here comes an old Gray 
with meat for the lions. Just size up that 
move. Doesn't he remind you of the old noodle 
that run a little one chaired shop down in the 
neighborhood of Chinatown.?" 

"Well, 1 should say so; isn't he a darling.? 
Suppose 1 jog his memory just for a little 
fun ? " 

"Oh, no, Rhiney, don't say anything, for 
he eats hay in this city. 1 am told that the 
Cincinnati Grays get awfully mad when you 
give them to understand that you are on to 
the turn, and 1 don't care about having any 
more trouble in Cincy for at least a few days." 

"Say, Frejolity, 1 wonder if there are many 
old Grays and old soldiers in this city.?" 

"I'm sure I don't know Rhiney, but think 



44 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

I have discovered some seven or eight of the 
Grays skating around the village, and a whole 
regiment of soldiers. I'll test some of them 
before I leave for New Orleans." It was then 
one P. M. We had held that seat down until 
hunger had taken possession of our stomachs, 
and our excessive talking without drink had 
evaporated all the secretions within us; so it 
was high time to eat and drink; and we left 
the Garden for refreshments; after which we 
again returned and made a tour of the grounds. 
How sweetly the time did pass, and with a 
friend from California, my boyhood home. 
We were were both highly pleased with Cin- 
cinnati's Zoological Garden, rather the finest 
either of us had ever visited. It was getting 
along toward six P. M., and Rhiney's train 
would leave for Indianapolis about seven-thirty. 
So we boarded the first car for the city. I 
took Rhiney with me to supper, and while 
eating he proposed that 1 go with him to In- 
dianapolis, that he would show me a time long 
to be remembered; that he had a nice little 
girl for me, and for himself, the sweetest little 
redhead that treads the Hoosier soil. Well, I 
thought if such was the case I would go and 
remain with him one day and one night. On 
our way to the train I reported at the shop 
that I was going over into Indiana; probably 
land down in Posey County or the City of 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 46 

Hosh Kosh, but I did not; I went to Indian- 
apolis with my friend, stopped with my friend, 
and arrived in the city too late for us to use 
our war paint that night. On the following 
day Rhiney escorted me around and made 
all arrangements for a real time in the 
evening. That was on Tuesday, and his 
arrangements turned out like a house built on 
the sand, they fell, and great was the fall 
thereof. 1 felt very much disappointed, think 
Rhiney felt quite the same. Anyhow, morn- 
ing came and we were still in the city, and 
free from the prison bars of Indianapolis. 
Whenever I looked at Rhiney I would have 
to laugh. The misfortune that came to him 
on our first and last night of outing together 
at Indianapolis of which I will give you in 
full, later on. With Rhiney's promise that he 
would pay me a visit some time during my 
stay in the city of New Orleans, I bid him 
good-bye. 

Arriving at Cincinnati in time to take my 
place at the chair at the hour of twelve-thirty 
P. M. Standard time, 1 worked faithfully and 
to the interest of the proprietor for another 
five months, then arranged for a two days' 
lay-off. I had formed the acquaintance and 
friendship of a barber by the name of Charley 
Vanostrim, from Cleveland, Ohio. His shop 
name was "Possum." So Possum and I took a 



46 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

two days' lay-off and boarded the first car 
for Covington, Ky. On our arrival in that city, 
I told Possum that he being pretty well ac- 
quainted I would expect him to take the lead 
and show me a good time. 

"All right," said Possum, *' follow me. We 
will first go to the hotel bar, have a drink of 
good old Bourbon, then wash up, brush up, 
shine up, and down to Blofogel's we will go. 
Old Dutch you know." 

"Yes, 1 know, don't you remember Mr. Pos- 
sum, the night you and 1 were sitting at a 
table in that place having a little lunch and a 
cocktail for the rinse, and up stepped a big 
Irishman by the name of Flaheand said to me, 
' Say, me friend, did you iver kiss the Blarney 
stone?' The reply . I gave him was, 'Well 
I should say 1 have.' At that he picked up 
my cocktail and drank it." 

"Well, no, Frejolity, I don't just remember. 
Did you swell up ? " 

"Did I swell up? Say, Possum, does a 
bicycle tire swell up when air is pumped into 
it?" 

"I expect it does, bat Frejolity, that's got 
nothing to do with this case, you must be 
careful or he will bump you again on your 
smeller.'' 

"Oh, no, Possum, I guess not. I got that 
bump giving him a chase down through his 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 47 

lot. You see, I was just squeezing Dollie up 
a little closer to me as the old cocktail thief 
entered the room. He saw me and made a rush 
in that direction but 1 had gone down through 
the lot at the speed of a grayhound. I 
must have knocked down at least four rows 
of corn, and did not stop until 1 struck a 
large pear tree standing in the rear end of the 
lot. When I struck that tree I went into a 
trance. When I awoke the next morning, 
the sun was shining and I was lying in the 
midst of a lot of rag weeds and Spanish 
needles. Fortunately there was a board off of 
the fence and I made my exit to the alley 
without being detected. When I reached that 
alley I felt just about as happy as if I had 
gotten off of some burning deck. You see, 
Possum, I was treading on the old Irishman's 
territory. And that old cocktail thief is Dollie's 
Pa is he ? " 

"Sure thing, Frejolity." 

'•'Well, he doesn't recognize me anyway, 
and we will run no risk but push right out 
of this place of Blofogle's and talk as we jog 
along. I would like to see Dollie once more, 
but her Pa is too heavy to suit me." 

"Say, Frejolity, you speaking of the corn 
you knocked down that night reminds me of 
a little remark that Dollie made to me shortly 
after that happened." 



48 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

"Well, Possum, what was it?" 

''Why, she said there had been an old 
horse in their garden and everything in it was 
frightfully demoralized." 

**0h yes, her Papa, the old thief, caused it 
all. Did she say it was a Gray horse?" 

"I don't just remember that, but I think 
she did." 

"Well, Possum, / think she didn't. You 
are just kidding me. Nevertheless, a horse 
with four legs, one on each corner, could 
never have caught me that night. Oh, of 
course, after I struck that pear tree the race 
was all off. You still remember how I was 
done up, don't you. Possum?" 

"Well yes, should say I do. Your face re- 
minded me of a chrysanthemum with a part 
of its foliage torn off. Hello, say, Frejolity, 
here comes Dollie and Sybill now." 

"That's right, now Possum, we will not 
say anything of the past, remember." 

"All right, face down. Shall I introduce you 
to the ladies?" 

"Now Possum, what is getting the matter 
with you ? No, if they have forgotten me in 
a few months, let them pass by. Say, Pos- 
sum, it seems as though there is a cord of wood 
running up and down my back." 

"1 expect Mr. Frejolity, that its that pear 
tree seeking a hiding place along your spinal 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 49 

column. Here they are, heads up." Just one 
glance from the girls and they both in unison 
cried out: "Oh, my, Frejolity and Possum, 
How-de-do, How-de-do. Four glad hearts 
had met, and talking was at a premium for at 
least twenty minutes; then the chatter sub- 
sided somewhat. Dollie and I strolled off 
together, with Sybill and Possum following 
suit. We escorted the ladies wherever there 
were refreshments to be had. Possum and 1 
were getting pretty well filled up, about all 
our trousers would hold; and concluded to 
wind up the fill-in with a glass of something 
stronger than soda water. You see, it was a 
very warm afternoon and we all perspired 
quite liberally. Our next stop was at a drug 
store. 1 ordered some more of old mother 
Lenox's soap-suds and at the same time tip- 
ping the clerk with a silver dollar. He knew 
the rest. Possum and his girl fared sumpt- 
uously, for theirs was thoroughly mixed up 
with old peach brandy, while Dollie's and 
mine was not of a fighting nature. Anyhow, 
we were all four walking along on one of the 
principal streets with Possum and his girl in 
the lead, while Dollie and I were bringing up 
the rear, putting in the best of time talking 
of the past, and of a date for that same even- 
ing. Just then I heard the scream of a woman. 
It was Sybill. Possum had fallen through a 
4 



50 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

coal scuttle hole and gone down below. The 
two girls walked away together, while 1 re- 
mained to help Possum out of his trouble. 
He was rather a dirty looking object. Coal 
dust for further orders. And his peach brandy 
still remained with him. We went into a 
near-by barber shop and while Possum washed 
and brushed himself I took a once over shave. 
We were then ready to fall in line with the 
girls again. All ready boys; but the birds 
had flown; and by the request of Dollie's papa. 
1 of course knew that I did not dare to go to 
her home, and more than that I had not for- 
gotten that pear tree at the rear end of their 
lot. So our plans were all off for that even- 
ing and all on account of Possum's awkward- 
ness in falling through that cussed coal scuttle 
hole. Possum and 1 were standing in front of 
a cigar store talking over the calamity, and 
the longer we talked the madder I got. I felt 
revengeful and thought 1 must do something. 
The Indian was the mightiest object to me and 
1 kicked him out into the gutter, took a short 
cut back through the store, down an alley, 
and caught a car for Cincinnati. The last I 
saw of Possum was the start he made. Say, 
it was a pippin, and if he hves to make the 
turn I'll purchase him for the track. 1 expect 
he thought 1 would follow him but I thought 
different. Our trip being such a complete 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 51 

failure I concluded that 1 would only take the 
one day off, so the next morning 1 went to 
work again. A couple of days after that as I 
was on my way to dinner I saw Possum 
passing along on the opposite side of the 
street and I hailed him in this way: "Hey 
there, Possum, how's the Indian ? " and this 
was his reply, "Very much Upper Sandusky." 
I did not catch on to what he was driving at 
when he said "very much Upper Sandusky," 
but thought it was something new that he had 
caught on to. 

My time in Cincinnati was fast passing away, 
and I would soon become a citizen of the 
sunny South. But two more weeks and two 
more Sundays remained for me in that city, 
and I must use those Sundays to a good ad- 
vantage. My first Sunday I would spend by 
going to Cedar Point. A point of land some 
place on Lake Erie and a memorable lake on 
account of the victory of Commodore Perry. 
For without a doubt, he alone turned the tide 
and saved our beautiful country from the 
land-grabbers of Europe. 

Sunday morning came and I did not care 
to stag it to Cedar Point, so I decided to take 
my little black-eyed girl with me. Her name 
was Hortense Austin. And by hustling a lit- 
tle we made the train all O.K. GUding along 
over the C. H. & D. R.R. up to Toledo, Ohio, 



52 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

where we took the boat for Cedar Point. 
Reaching the Point, we at once had refresh- 
ments. By the way, at that same table we 
met a lady from Upper Sandusky, Ohio. 
That's a Httle Indian village on the plains of 
Wyandott County so I was told; and at pres- 
ent on the hog. If the reader remembers one 
page back, I spoke of kicking a wooden In- 
dian that stood in front of a cigar store out into 
the gutter for Possum's benefit. That circum- 
stance occurred over in Covington, Ky., and 
that I afterward spied Possum passing along 
on the opposite side of the street from me 
and hailed him with a "Hello there, Possum, 
how's the Indian?" His reply was, "Very 
much Upper Sandusky." So you see, all 
things come to those who wait. After re- 
freshments we rubbered around for a while, 
then slid down hill on a wire; just once. 
Then went in bathing. Hortense slipped off 
of a large rock and drank I suppose, a gallon 
of lake water before I got to her rescue. 
You see, she could not swim, and reached 
that rock on the shallow side, and slipped off 
on the deep side. Everything was nothing. 
Out we came, off with our bathing suits, 
and took a bee-line for the boat. I think we 
had, that is, I had an elegant time on that 
Island. Its a good place for recreation. Time 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 53 

was up, the boat whistle blew and we were 
off for the city of Toledo. When about half 
way a gale struck us, I mean the boat. Hor- 
tense's stomach became a little riled up. I 
insisted that she take a drink of Irish whiskey, 
that I was harboring three of them in me; 
thinking that what was good for me was 
good for her also. But no, she wouldn't even 
smell of the cork. All she done the balance 
of the way to Toledo was to get her mouth 
over the railing of the upper deck and make 
ugly faces. I was happy when we reached 
that city and happier than that when our train 
whizzed into Cincinnati. For the pleasure on 
our return home was very monotonous; caused 
I suppose, by Hortense filling in on too much 
lake water. 1 arrived at the shop the next 
morning about as fresh as a stale oyster, but 
with the satisfaction of knowing that in one 
more week I would start for the Crescent City. 
During my last week in that shop it was all 
argument as to whether old barbers actually 
did turn into Gray horses. They all admitted 
that they did not see nor hear anything of the 
old barbers either dead or alive, but the sol- 
dier barbers could be counted by the hundreds. 
Well, to convince the boys that there might 
be something in it, I slipped on my coat, 
stepped out on the sidewalk intending to try 



54 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

and prove my argument to them. They were 
all watching me but did not know what 1 in- 
tended to do. Presently along came quite a 
large iron Gray hitched to a delivery wagon. 
1 whistled, caught his eye, pulled out the flask, 
but he passed it by without the least sign of 
recognition. The boys laughed and so did I. 
But wait, they are not all of them old Grays. 
In just a few moments two more came along; 
one hitched to a coal wagon and the other 
one to a sewing machine wagon. At a 
proper distance before they came up to me I 
again whistled. Both of them looked in the 
direction from whence the sound came. I 
shook the flask and they made a start my 
way. The one hitched to the coal wagon 
was driven by a lad perhaps seventeen years 
old, while the other one was in charge of a 
large robust man. Well, the old Gray that 
the boy handled reached me first. I pulled 
the cork, held the flask, and the old Gray 
drank the contents quicker than you could 
say **Jim Crow." 1 pulled his little thin whisk- 
ers and said, "Say, Bolivar, how do you 
like the change.?" He shook his head "no." 
Then I said, "You still appreciate a good 
drink yet, don't you?" He nodded that he 
did. "Now, Bolivar, 1 suppose you were 
about sixty years old when the thief came 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 55 

along and took from you your liberty?" and 
he nodded yes. 

*' Bolivar, did you ever work in Toledo, O. ? " 
He shook his head no. "Perhaps then it 
was Dayton or Columbus, O. ? " He nodded 
no to that. For the last time I said, "It must 
have been some village over in Indiana or 
Michigan; perhaps it was Hoshkosh or Kal- 
amazoo?" To that he coughed and nodded 
his head yes. I was then ready to ask a few 
questions of the other Gray, but he left im- 
mediately after he saw Bolivar swallowing the 
stuff. He also left the wagon and driver very 
much broken up one square away. 

I returned to the shop feeling perfectly sat- 
isfied with my success, and the boys all felt 
sad at heart thinking that the time might 
come when they would make that same 
turn. This turn has been a secret for quite a 
number of years, and was first discovered in 
San Francisco one moonlight night by Azariah 
Frejolity. 

On my last Sunday forenoon I went to hear 
Robert Ingersoll lecture. In the afternoon and 
evening I enjoyed myself with - my little lady 
that 1 had with me down to Cedar Point. I 
left her with tears in my eyes, "1 guess not." 
On Monday I concluded that my pockets were 
getting rather small for my possessions, so 
bought me quite a nice little valise to help me 



56 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

out. When it was packed and I was ready 
to go, I went to the shop to bid my friends 
and enemies a last good-bye, but did not get 
to see my friend Possum. I will just say for 
the benefit of myself, that the friendship I have 
for Cincinnati is great. She is an all-around 
up-to-date village, and not on the hog. 



CHAPTER V. 

I arrived in the City of New Orleans in very 
good shape. The only trouble I had was 
watching my little valise. They take lots of 
care. That is, you must guard them closely 
as they are liable to walk away with another 
man. Had 1 carried the coin 1 had saved in 
that valise, it would have stolen a march on 
me sure. I understood the worth of a dollar 
and so arranged its safety on paper that 1 
could draw when and wherever I might see 
fit. People who spend all their earnings don't 
appreciate its worth until misfortune befalls 
them, then its too late. I made up my mind 
when 1 left San Francisco, that 1 would ar- 
range it so that all the extra money that I 
might have on hand I would at once exchange 
for bank paper and keep up the good cause 
until I was ready to leave Boston Harbor 
for Truxillo, Honduras, Central America. I 
did this, and am glad that I did; for other- 
wise I would have been stranded in Boston, 
and all hopes of ever seeing Honduras would 
have been crushed to mother earth. 1 did not 
look for work in the Crescent City for two 
days after my arrival there. 1 first found a 

57 



68 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

place to board with a private family, then 
rubbered around a city that would almost give 
a stranger the cholera morbus at first sight. 
1 stayed there one year and learned to love 
that city and its people with all my heart. 
When 1 was ready to go to work I found it 
somewhat difficult to get a job at a salary 
that just suited me, but finally accepted a posi- 
tion in a three chaired shop at sixty cents 
on the dollar; netting me twelve dollars per 
week. That was all right. I had been, and 
was this time, lucky in getting a nice clean 
shop in which to work, and a clean proprietor. 
What I mean by a clean proprietor is this: to 
treat their hired help with respect, and to be 
liberal minded with their faults and misfor- 
tunes. 1 had been doing in this shop as in 
all others, attending strictly to business. As 
to the trade, it was about the same in one 
shop as in another. The Lord has scattered 
the cranks broadcast over our land to give 
each and every barber a chance to test his 
temper and staying qualities. I am alluding 
to a class of trade that barbers with exper- 
ience can tell the moment they enter the shop, 
and just what the barber must do to be saved. 
Saved from what.? Why, from their wrath 
and the wrath of their proprietors. Customers 
that don't know the difference between a 
razor that scratches the face or pulls it, and 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 59 

that bright steel will not carry parasites if 
properly attended to, and that parasite eczema 
originates from inoculation and is termed 
barber's itch, should keep their opening closed 
in regards to the profession. 

I had been in the city just six months, and 
arriving at my boarding-house that evening, 
found that the postman had been there and 
left me two letters. One from my father, the 
other one from my old friend, Rhiney, of In- 
dianapolis. This is what Rhiney said: — 

Indianapolis, Ind., September, 17, 1892. 
My Dear Frejolity, it seems like an age 
since we mingled in the Zoo together, also in 
this city. If nothing prevents larger than an 
Irishman I'll be with you on or about October 
I St of this year. . Yours, 

Rhiney. 

** Let's see, on or about October ist, yes, that's 
all right, it will suit me nicely, in fact, any time 
would suit me." I was not out calling every 
afternoon like my girl in Cincinnati used to do. 
I will also read you my father's letter. My 
parents were always kind-hearted, and true 
to everybody; and to myself the same. You 
see, its an old saying and its true, ''That 
kind words can never die." Say, whenever 
you see a person that is ready and willing to 
help the poor forsaken outcast, and others 



60 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

that are in trouble and distress, then you have 
found a person that is happy and one who 
has a bright prospect for a happy home in the 
hereafter. 

Sacramento City, Cal., Sept. 13th, 1892. 
My Dear Son: — 

A little difficulty in the way of a busi- 
ness transaction has brought me to this city. 
Will remain here about three days. There 
will be a part of my time that 1 will be at 
leisure, and now is a part of that time. So 1 
will just keep on writing. The letter you 
wrote about the time you left Cincinnati 
reached us all right. Read it with much pleas- 
ure. We cried for joy, knowing that you are 
well and doing well by saving your dollars. 
That's right my son, your dollars will be your 
friend. Without them you must be happy in 
rags. Our little cabin home is still waiting 
your return, and our motto is, may you live 
long and prosper, and that our prodigal son 
may soon return to us without spot or blem- 
ish on his good name. Your letters are always 
welcome and glad to hear from you at any 
time. We remain lovingly, 

Jasper and Elizabeth Frejolity. 

Yes, such is life, fathers and mothers love 
their children, and I thought at the time I was 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 61 

reading their letter I ought to return home, 
but you see, I was not quite ready. I was 
determined to know what part of this little 
ball I was treading over. Well, I at once 
made arrangements with my land-lady for 
Rhiney to stop with me, then wrote him a 
line that all was O.K. and to bring plenty of 
dough with him. 1 met him at the train and 
shook his hand quite severely; for 1 was feel- 
ing very happy. You see, Rhiney is a Cali- 
fornian by birth and so am 1. The first word 
I said after we got through shaking hands 
was, "Well, Rhiney, I have made all arrange- 
ments for you to stop with me while you re- 
main in this city, and we will give them 
cards and spades, won't we?" 

"That's what we will," said Rhiney, "but 
Frejolity, you will excuse me please, for 
reasons unknown to you I will stop at a hotel. 
1 did not come down here to impose upon 
your generosity. You are a good fellow and 
all that, but 1 must have plenty of room." 

"Say, Rhiney, that's all right, but didn't you 
have plenty of room the night you went down 
to see that old Irishman's Rachel?" 

"Now, Frejolity, don't spring that Irishman 
any more. Here is a nice looking hotel, I'll 
just step in." 

"All right, Rhiney, and its a good one, but 
it will be a trifle more inconvenient for us to 



62 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

be together. I must work you know, and the 
evenings and Sundays are my only hours off. 
I now leave you with the understanding that 
you make your loafing headquarters during 
your stay, at the barber shop where I am em- 
ployed. And that I will call for you at the 
hotel on the coming Sunday at i o'clock P.M. 
for a ramble of some kind together." Sunday 
noon came, and 1 togged up in my best for 
the entertaining of Rhiney. On my arrival at 
the hotel I found him almost ready, all but a 
shave. So we went to his room and I went 
over his face once, which was enough for any 
man. I then said, ''which had we better do, 
Rhiney, drive or take it a foot ? " 

"Well, Frejolity, I think we had better take 
a conveyance that we can have the most fun 
with the least trouble." 

"That's right, Rhiney, and no old Eli of a 
horse to keep us in suspense. And if it would 
be a Gray it might be a turn." 

"Yes, Frejolity, and if it would be a turn 
it might be a policeman." 

"Hold on, Rhiney, don't get funny or I 
might remind you of that little circumstance 
that happened to you at Indianapolis. You 
know I was present at the time." 

"Oh, I don't know; here, Frejolity, have a 
little snifter out of this bottle, then we will 
step out on the veranda, have a smoke, then 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 63 

go on our way rejoicing. By the way, Fre- 
jolity, do you still remember what the police 
judge said to you the time you was up before 
him in Cincinnati?" 

"Well, no, Rhiney, I can't say that I do. 
I suppose you remember it, as you were not 
there ?" 

"No, I was not there, but you told me 
afterwards all about it. " 

"Well, Rhiney, out with it, I expect it is 
rag-time wind anyway." 

"Now, Frejolity, don't you remember of 
saying something to the judge about keeping 
your eye on the Old Gray horses ? and the judge 
said, * Oh, then you are a horse thief are you ? ' 
Ha, Ha, say, Frejolity, how did you feel about 
that time anyway.?" 

"Well, Mr. Rhiney, since you have started 
the ball to rolling, I'll tell you. I felt just 
about like you did the time I went with- you 
to Indianapolis with your guarantee that you 
would show me a good time. You remem- 
ber that you said you had a sweet little girl 
picked out for me, and that she was a part- 
ner to your red-head, and that yours was the 
sweetest little Bruno in the city." 

"Now, Frejolity, I never said Bruno. I said 
brunette." 

"Well, I guess that was what you said; I 
knew it was something along that line." 



64 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

"I fear Mr. Frejolity, that you are a little 
forgetful." 

•'What did you say her name was?" 

"Rachel." 

*'Yes, and her father's name?" 

'•Morarity." 

** You knew that he was very much opposed 
to your calling to see her. I by chance met 
him on the street and had quite a long talk 
with him. He is a policeman by birth and 
told me that if he ever caught you with his 
Rachel he would everlastingly tan your jacket. 
I told you about it at the time and this is 
what you said, *0h, he was just kidding you, 
he wouldn't do that anyhow,' you placed con- 
fidence in the old man and made arrangements 
with the girls some time during the day that 
both of us would call at Rachel's home and 
my girl of course was to be there. The hour 
for our departure was at hand and when we 
reached their pretty little cottage it was found 
to be very much darkened; especially in the 
sitting room. I said to you, ' Say. Rhiney, 
you must smell something dangerous around 
here;' for you know you left me standing 
under a large spreading maple tree on the 
outside of the fence, with instructions that if 
the old Irishman came that way I should 
whistle the alarm. I told you all right, that I 
would attend to that. Then you made a 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 65 

sneak for the house to reconnoitre a little. I 
don't think you knew positively whether the 
old man was on his beat or at home. Any- 
way, you took shelter behind a large crimson 
rambler that stood near the front door and 
waited. Presently there was a turning of the 
door knob and you thinking it was your 
Rachel, rubbered from behind that rambler to 
catch a glimpse of her bright smiling face; 
but to your surprise it was the old man's mug 
that you was rubbering at. What was the 
matter with you anyway, did you have a fit ? " 

**Not on your moustache," said Rhiney, "I 
was just figuring out which way to go." 

"You must have made some kind of a noise 
didn't you, think I heard something?" 

"Well, Frejolity, it might have been hi-lee, 
hi-lo, that you heard." 

**No, I mean some kind of a sound." 

"Well, then," said Rhiney, "how does hi-lo, 
hi-lee, suit you ?" 

" All right, Rhiney, have it your way, but I'll 
bet you thought it was the longest hi-lo, hi- 
lee you ever experienced before you reached 
the sidewalk. When that Irishman made a 
dash for you, you went out from behind that 
rambler like a bung out of a barrel. What 
was all that rattling ? " 

"Well, Frejolity, it must have been that 
Irishman's congress shoes, at least it felt very 
5 



66 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

much like something of that sort. I wonder 
if I didn't make good time?" 

"The fastest time, Rhiney, that I ever wit- 
nessed. The girls also enjoyed it from the 
upstairs window, for I heard Rachel, halloo, 
' Aurevoir, Rhiney, Aurevoir,' just then you 
scaled the fence leaving one-half of your coat 
tail hanging on a picket." 

''You see, Mr. Frejolity, I just donated that 
to the old man for a neck scarf, for I thought 
he never owned such a luxury and that he 
had a very sensitive neck stuck on his frame." 

"Now, Rhiney, you are very kind in case of 
suffering humanity, but in my estimation his 
neck looked very much like a piece ef second 
growth hickory. Anyhow, which way did 
you go when you reached the alley.?" 

"Why, I went straight up." 

"Straight up where, Rhiney?" 
'Why, straight up the alley, I had no wings. 
You see I was in a hurry and took the short- 
est route to the city. That is, the business 
part of the eating and drinking departments. 
Say, Frejolity, did you meet that old red-head?" 

"Yes, Rhiney, 1 passed him about two 
squares from the scene. He did not recognize 
me, and I said nothing to him. He was still 
snorting like a Texas steer. Rhiney, old boy, 
did you ever meet him after that?" 

"Not that I remember of." 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 67 

"Well, I'll bet he is a scrapper from away 
back in Posey County." 

"Yes Frejolity, and he was a posey; looked 
like a sunflower. I'll bet if it wouldn't have 
been for the love I had for Rachel I would 
have made him look Hke old Pat Hogan of 
Indianapolis. Do you remember him, Frejol- 
ity?" 

"Oh, yes, very distinctly. I came very 
near pulling all of his lilacs out one night in 
a little brawl. Lord but he roared, and 1 
shook my Trilbies. Say, Rhiney, don't you 
ever tackle that Irishman, for one punch from 
that maul of his would settle you forever. If 
you are the scrapper that you think you are, 
why don't you challenge Fitzsimmons or the 
Big Sailor?" 

"Well, Frejolity, I don't pretend to be a 
prize fighter, I expect them chaps would come 
after me a little too swift for pleasure." 

"And Rhiney, I expect that yellow streak 
would show up immediately on your entering 
the ring." 

"Don't say anything about yellow streak, 
Frejolity, you know how you were coming 
out of that barber school at Cincinnati that 
time don't you? The streak down your back 
must have been full size, and you was showing 
it to all the pilgrims passing that way. But 
what need either of us care for the streaks, 



68 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

we must live to do others before they do 
us. Here Frejolity, have another swig from 
this flask and we will be off for a time; its 
now three P.M." 

On entering the office the clerk called to 
Rhiney and handed him a message. On open- 
ing, he found it to be from his father at San 
Francisco, asking him to return at once and 
take charge of his business as he intended 
starting for Europe in a week or ten days. 
That settled our fun and separated us for time 
to come. Rhiney left the Crescent City in one 
hour after receiving that message. 1 accom- 
panied him to the train, bid him good-by 
with kindest regards to all inquiring friends, 
and we again parted. I returned to my 
boarding-house feeling sad and forlorn; not 
caring very much how soon my year would 
come to a close in the Crescent City. I retired 
early and went to the shop the next morning 
with the blues. The first man that took my 
chair was a stranger to me, and the first 
thing he said when lathered was, **I want a 
very close shave." My reply was, "well sir, 
that is something that I never practiced. In 
fact, 1 never learned that art. I always try to 
give a man a nice, clean and easy shave, and 
when such is accomplished I think, well done 
good and faithful servant." He then said, 
"Oh, you are one of those barbers that don't 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 69 ' 

care to do much and at the same time make 
a charge. I came in here to get shaved to 
suit myself, not you, and if you will not com- 
ply with my request I'll go elsewhere." 

♦'Very well my friend," said I, "take your 
choice; a clean and easy shave by me, or 
perhaps a scrape by some other barber." He 
went, and I came very near going also. I 
had no more trouble until about one week 
before I left the city. A patron of ours came 
in one evening in somewhat of a hurry, 
took my chair and said, "Once over Azariah, 
and I'll return in the morning and let you 
finish the job." In reply I said, "All right 
Charley, but the once over you get now will 
cost you fifteen cents, and the finish you get 
in the morning will cost you another fifteen 
cents. Whenever a man gives instructions for 
a once over shave, he gets it, then the bar- 
ber's work is complete for that time; and on 
the return of that same customer on the fol- 
lowing morning to have that once over shave 
finished, will find that that once over shave 
had been finished and paid for and that if he 
wanted another finish he must pay the price." 
Then he brawled out: 

"What's the matter with this shop, is it 
becoming embarrassed? Just wipe off that 
lather please and I'll go where I can have it 
my way." I obeyed orders and obeyed them 



70 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

quickly. And I'll bet he was out of the shop 
in fifteen seconds after I commenced to wipe 
off that lather. The proprietor, Mr. Mills, 
asked me what the trouble was. I told him. 
He smiled and at the same time remarked, 
"let him go, you have done your part." My 
associate was a brother workman from Pitts- 
burgh, Pa., and was employed about two 
squares from where I worked. His name was 
Ramsey. We had many little jamborees to- 
gether, and neither of us ever suffered arrest 
while in the Crescent City. Although I came 
within an ace of it once. There was at one 
time quite a freshet in the city, and with the 
assistance of the Mississippi River the water 
spread through some of the streets to a depth 
of ten or twelve inches. So 1 concluded one 
night that 1 would go in swimming on one 
of their streets, and put on skin tight under 
clothing and made a bee-line for that swim. 
By taking the sidewalk, I was not checked 
in my speed, and reached that street in safety. 
I made a plunge from the walk and a splash 
followed. I saw a policeman coming, caught 
onto the fine and costs, and you should have 
seen me going around the corner of a big 
stone block. I soon reached my boarding- 
house, and landed safely in my little bed. 
The river forms a crescent half way around 
the city, and that is why it is called the Cres- 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 71 

cent City. I saw but one Gray horse that 
recognized the sign, but the soldiers were 
easily discovered. The time for my departure 
from the Crescent City had arrived, and I felt 
just a little pleased; as I did not consider my 
surroundings very safe south of Mason and 
Dixon's line. That is, a northerner is not free 
to speak his little piece. If he does, there is 
liable to be something drop, and perhaps that 
something would not be able to get up again. 
Yet, I formed the acquaintance of a few very 
dear people, and the kind that would have 
stayed with me to the last. 



CHAPTER VI. 

I left the City of New Orleans with best 
wishes to all mankind, and especially the pro- 
prietor and brother workmen. I was nine 
days on my way to Washington, D. C, my 
next place of labor. 

Stopping off at Jacksonville, Florida, Char- 
leston, South Carolina, and Norfolk, Virginia. 
I rather fancied these three southern cities, but 
nothing to be compared with the cities in which 
I had worked. 1 arrived at Washington, D. C, 
feeling somewhat debilitated and with a poor 
appetite. It did not agree with mc very well 
in the city of New Orleans, too much damp- 
ness; causing me to fill up with malaria. 
Anyhow, I was lucky in finding a good private 
boarding-house at which to stop. 1 remained 
in doors for a few days, then went in search 
of work. It was but a few hours until I 
found a position in an eight chaired shop at 
twelve dollars per week. I did my work well 
and was rewarded in the way of tips to the 
tune of eighty cents per day; that is, it aver- 
aged me that; making me a total of about 
seventeen dollars every six days. That was a 
good thing for me and I did my level best to 

78 



74 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

please all mankind with or without playing 
horse or soldiering. 1 did not loiter on my 
way to and from work, therefore I was always 
on time to my labor. And by so doing I 
gained the confidence of my employer and re- 
ceived a great many favors from him during 
the year 1 was in his employ. 

Whenever I took a day off my pay went on 
just the same. 1 usually put in my Sundays 
in that city attending church. Sometimes 
going to Dr. Talmadge's Tabernacle, and at 
the same time watch the high-toned society. 
Its a fright. 1 rubbered and eyed them so 
closely that my eyeballs became very much 
strained and sore. On leaving the church 1 
would watch the different styles of vehicles 
going their way loaded down with suffering 
humanity. 1 often thought of a wood-sawyer's 
poetry; it goes like this; with Sundays barred: 

**A wood-sawyer stood on the street 

as they passed, 

The carriage and couple he eyed, 

And said, as he worked with his saw 

on the log, 

M wish 1 was rich and could ride.'" 

You see, that fit pretty well in my case, 
only I was a different kind of a sawyer. 
Now, where in the duce was the poorer class 
of people? They did not show up at that 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 75 

Tabernacle. There are surely some of them that 
attend his church, no person was barred out. 
I was not a very expensive dresser, but was 
wonderfully improved along that line since 
leaving San Francisco. I could have purchased 
a small diamond and made me look richer, 
that is financially, but thought 1 would wait, 
glass might take a tumble then I would in- 
vest and have a better showing with the Four 
Hundred. If not in Washington, then in 
some other city. There are lots of pretty 
women in Washington, D. C, but a person 
can find plenty of such any and everywhere. 
The greatest difficulty that 1 had to contend 
with, was in trying to trot along with people 
far in advance of myself financially, also in 
learning how to adjust eye-glasses, with bows, 
raising of hats, caps, boots and shoes. I had 
all those things to learn. Then I must have 
a big bank account to still help me along. I 
thought to myself, '*0h, pshaw, here 1 am in 
the city of Washington trying to work my 
way into society." I soon realized the fact 
that it could not be done by Azariah Frejolity, 
unless he learned the art of motion and style 
in the extreme, and with a large chunk of 
dough to back up the motion, I felt that 
there might come a time when I'd be gliding 
along on Easy street with plenty of fine clothes 
and diamonds galore. But remember, 1 also 



76 , WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

felt that the dough and diamonds must come 
otherwise than from barbering. A man that 
can get wealth enough in the barber business 
to retire, wear diamonds and mingle with the 
Four Hundred, is surely an angel and a fit 
subject to enter that little narrow gate that 
leads to life everlasting. I was still young in 
years with good health, and was adding a 
little money to my cash balance each year. 
The acquaintances that I was forming in the 
city were few and far between. The boys in 
the shops being in the majority. It was a 
little against the rules of the shop to converse 
very much with the trade, also with the 
brother barbers. I always took just what 
liberty in that respect that I thought belonged 
to me, and no more. Then if at any time, 
or place, the proprietor would have called me 
down and said, ''here Frejolity, we want but 
very little talking to the trade and no loiter- 
ing at the front when not engaged." What 
kind of an answer do you think 1 would give 
a man of that kind ? 

I wouldh ave said, "You are an idiotic fool;" 
and would have almost considered him in line 
with ludas, the man who betrayed our Christ. 
That's putting it pretty strong, nevertheless, 
I mean just what I say. And the time I hope 
will never come when the hand of any man 
will hold his labor in such bondage. That 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 77 

time I am sure will never come to pass with 
me, for I never did, nor never would, work for 
that kind of a man. A first class barber need 
not stand the abuse of any man while work- 
ing at his chair or otherwise while on duty. 
You can just slip your little Tally-ho razors 
in your top vest pocket and go your way re- 
joicing. No trouble to get employment if you 
are on the square and attentive to business. 
And if you feel so inclined you can put in a 
shop of your own or buy out some brother 
barber; then a part of your business would 
be already established. 

No barber should be without the price; all 
you have to do is to learn the art of holding 
to a dollar when you once have it in your 
hand. I am thankful that I learned how to 
save a few of the halves and quarters and 
that I practiced it without disturbing all of 
my pleasures. Of course, I was compelled to 
let pass about all the expensive pleasures, 
feeling that I would be able in the future to 
make up for the past. And now, since I have 
been successful financially, I haven't as yet 
decided whether I will wear diamonds and 
the finest of clothing or not. So far, I remain 
just the same as 1 did when barbering. My 
labor in Washington was gliding along se- 
renely. Had had no trouble whatever with 
the proprietor or trade, but could not tell 



78 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

what was yet to come. As I said before, my 
Sundays were about all of them put in in 
going to church and Sunday School while 
in the city. My sight seeing was just what I 
caught on to a few minutes at a time. My 
church and Sunday School experience I will 
give you later on. We barbers often talked 
of soldiers and Gray horses. Some of the 
boys thought there might be a change, while 
others fought it to the bitter end. 

I tested the old Grays that passed by our 
shop for three days, and the tests were all in 
my favor. Yet, some of the boys felt that 
such was an impossibility. It looks impos- 
sible, doesn't it } But then, why do the Grays 
that have made the turn act so queer when 
the signs are given ? Anyway, the boys be- 
came very much interested in the Gray horses, 
and they too got to carrying little flasks in 
their inside coat pockets. 1 gave them my 
experience and they could do the same. I 
had been in the city just seven months, and 
during that time I had chosen for my asso- 
ciate one of the men in our shop. We had 
spent the most of our Sundays together and 
attended church at Talmadge's Tabernacle. 
We found but little pleasure there outside of 
his sermons and the singing, so we decided 
on going to the Presbyterian Sunday School 
and church services providing it suited us. 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 79 

The first Sunday that came along we made 
the start, and the first thing they did was to 
invite us into a Bible class. There I sat like 
an oyster and by the side of a sweet young 
lady. Our teacher, a fine looking gentleman, 
asked me several questions, but I answered 
nothing; as I was not posted in the Scrip- 
tures. My partner, Isaiah Smear, sat just in 
front of me with the same ignorance in his 
knot as myself, and looked very much bug- 
house. The teacher had introduced us to the 
class (which had a tendency to make me feel 
a little easier) and our lesson had been whip- 
ped sawed until it was completely exhausted. 
Finally the lady by my side said, "Mr. Fre- 
jolity, you live in this city do you not ? " 

**Sure thing," said 1. ''Am here now about 
seven months." 

She then said, "We will be very glad to 
see you and your friend out to our church 
and Sabbath School regularly." 1 told her I 
did not know how it would be; that 1 thought 
I had better search the Scriptures before I 
attended many Sunday Schools and tried to 
make my mark in a Bible class of that caliber. 
Her countenance became very crimson and 
her eyes bunged out like that of a young 
fawn; she smiled but said nothing. 

I was fearful that I had put in a wrong 
word some place but thought to myself, **let 



80 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

it go Riley." The Sunday School finally came 
to a close, but Smear and 1 did not tarry for 
church, neither did we attend the evening ser- 
vices. But during the following week we put 
in all of our spare time searching the Scripture, 
determined on the next Sunday to answer at 
least one question asked us. The next Sun- 
day came and we again put in our appearance. 
They kindly invited us for the second time 
into their class. I was once more lucky in 
getting to perch my carcass up by the side of 
that same Miss Johnson that 1 did the Sunday 
before. That name reminded me of the song, 
**Mr. Johnson turn me loose, I've no money 
but a good excuse. Mr. Johnson, I'll be good." 
Well, the lesson that was being discussed was 
about the rich man and Lazarus. I missed that 
part of the Scripture entirely during my read- 
ing of the week, and was obliged to play the 
part of an oyster again. The teacher asked 
me one question and I let it pass by. Finally, 
he asked my partner, Mr. Smear, who he 
thought that man Lazarus was, and where 
he hailed from. It was a stunner. Smear 
squirmed, twisted, and swallowed something 
that slid down his throat like a cow's cud. 
He finally said, **1 think Lazarus was from 
Jericho. And don't you think his right name 
was Frejolity?" Looking right at our teacher; 
the class all laughed but Smear and myself. 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 81 

I felt fearful, and thought, confound that 
brainless sap sucker, has he lost his mind or 
does he want to make out that Lazarus's right 
name was Frejolity, and who did he ask to 
give the proper name for Lazarus. They all 
knew my name and the way he spoke left 
a bad impression on something or somebody. 
Anyhow, I must speak up and make it better 
or worse. Something to ease up Smear and 
pass it all off as a joke. So I said, "I expect 
Mr. Smear was thinking of the time we made 
our journey down to Jericho. Smear caught 
a jack-rabbit and a thief caught Smear. I 
saved him there, and I hope I have saved him 
here." Smear became white with rage but 
said nothing. 1 made up my mind that there- 
after, if I attended Sunday-School, I would go 
alone rather than be accompanied by such an 
ignoramus. 

I was not posted on the rich man and Laz- 
arus, and knew enough to keep my opening 
closed rather than to make the break that he 
did. When Sunday-School was dismissed out 
he went, while 1 remained for church. I was 
somewhat stuck on Miss Johnson, but had 
almost given up all my plans as lost. But 
not so, after the passing of two more Sabbaths 
I was invited to take dinner with her. I did 
so, and was royally entertained. She was a 
fine pianist and sang some elegant songs. I, 



82 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

of course, was invited to play and sing. 1 did 
my best with the song entitled "An old fash- 
ioned photograph of Mother so dear." I was 
no slouch on the piano if I was a barber. 
And my talking in the shops never affected 
those organs that I used in singing. During our 
conversation I discovered that Miss Johnson 
was desirous of knowing my occupation. 
But I did not tell her until she asked me the 
second time. Suppose 1 told her a little story, 
then I suppose I didn't. Anyhow, I told her 
I was an artist, but did not tell her what kind 
of an artist, if 1 had, the jig with me would 
have been up. 1 remained with her during 
the afternoon, and we went to church together 
in the evening. 1 found her to be rather in 
the lead of Frejolity in a fine conversation, 
and was above the average dresser with silks 
and satins. I was well aware of the fact that 
if 1 held to that little sparrow 1 must use no 
foolishness with her. I arrived at the shop the 
next morning happy as a woodchuck, and 
the old tally-ho never worked better. Smear 
seemed happy also. Something good must 
have crossed his path. 1 never gave him away 
to the boys, neither did I mention the cir- 
cumstance to him. And that is why he still 
felt friendly toward me. Church and Sunday 
School going had stopped with him, but I contin- 
ued to go as long as I remained in the city of 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 83 

Washington. The funniest part of it was, 
that the little lady did not find out that I was 
a Tonsorial Artist until the last week that I 
was in the city. You can imagine the result, 
I never went back to her home or to that 
church again. My time was up all around, 
and after bidding my lady friend good-bye by 
letter and my gentleman friends by the shake 
of their hand, I was then off for the city of 
Baltimore, Md. 



CHAPTER VII. 

On reaching the city of Baltimore, I again 
had trouble in finding a boarding-house that 
just suited my fancy. . After going to four or 
five different places, I finally found one that 
was very nicely equipped, and pretty well up 
in the city. So I set my little valise in one 
corner of a bed-room at four-fifty per week, 
then took a stroll around a fe\X^ of the cor- 
ners. It was then 4 P. M., so thought I 
would wait until morning before I would look 
for work. The next morning on passing along 
a few of the principal streets, I spied rather a 
fine looking shop with nine chairs. In I went, 
struck it for thirteen dollars per week, one 
day off, shop opened and closed at 7 A. M. 
and 8 P. M. no Sunday work. In fact, I 
was not a Sunday barber anyway. Well, I 
called that another pippin of a job. Eight 
regular workmen and the lad that was learn- 
ing the trade did a little work on the ninth 
chair and attended the shine stand and bath- 
tubs. The proprietor went by the name of 
Beefey and did no work at all. I did not 
fancy his looks very much, and thought he 
surely had a temper that suited his name. I 

85 



86 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

always called a Beefer a kicker, and would 
wait patiently the results of this man Beefey's 
kicks. I chose for my associate a fellow 
workman by the name of Jerry Balance; but 
the boys had nick-named him Chink-eye. I 
had been in the city perhaps three months before 
Chink-eye and myself took a general outing 
together. His home was at Dover, Delaware, 
and he had been in the city some three years. 
Therefore, he was pretty well acquainted with 
a number of the nooks and crooks of that city. 
I cannot tell the reader of this book but 
a small part of the bumps that took place 
with me from the time I left my Southern 
California home, until I returned to that same 
home. Whatever happenings come to my 
mind from city to city, that is what you will 
get. I was desirous of going out to Dreiud 
Hill Park, as I had heard of its being such a 
beautiful place. This was on Sunday and after 
dinner we made the start. The car soon 
landed us on the spot, it being only about 
four miles from the business part of the city. 
It is a beautiful place I assure you and I had a 
time long to be remembered. We seated our- 
selves on a sort of rustic bench. I saw coming 
at a distance a couple of Grays hitched to a 
fine carriage, loaded down with humanity. I 
said, "Now, Chink-eye, let's have a little fun." 
"How's that?" said he. 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 87 

" Why, here comes a couple of Grays, per- 
haps they have made the turn, if they have, 
it must show up in some way." I had my 
little flask with me and it was full of the gen- 
uine. So, when they came near us, I hailed, 
"Hello there, doodle, have a drink." Say, I 
never saw such a mixed up mess in my life. 
The Gray on our side had made the turn, and 
on seeing the flask made a short quick start 
for us, upsetting the carriage and dumping 
the job lot of them out on the ground. Both 
women and one of the men beneath the 
wreck. We at once went to their rescue, and 
raised the vehicle to its right position. The 
old turn had kicked himself loose from its 
mate and eloped to parts unknown, leaving 
the quartette standing there petting their 
bumps and bruises. Both gentlemen thanked 
us very politely for our services and handed 
each of us a dollar. Thanking them for the 
same, with our regrets for their misfortune we 
went our way rejoicing. Fortunately for us 
they did not know the cause of that mix up, 
for it saved us seven-fifty and costs apiece. 
We had been sipping quite freely from our 
flasks, not realizing that the shades of night 
were so fast approaching. I finally said to 
Chink-eye, "Say Chink-eye, by all the gods 
the sun is rushing down in the west." His 
reply was, "let her rush." Of course, I knew 



88 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

that I could not stop the sun's rush, but we 
could go back to our little beds and take a 
rest; I also knew that a lost nerve was no 
good to push or pull on a tally-ho razor. So 
we took the first car back to the city, found 
our little beds, and showed up at the shop 
the next morning in pretty good shape. 

I worked faithfully and to the interest of all 
concerned, but did finally, before the day was 
over, have quite a warm argument with a 
crank. It was this way: when he first entered 
the shop he gave us all to understand his 
greatness by his conversation. Playing horse 
and soldiering was in demand by four of us 
boys, as one of the four was sure to get him. 
I did everything possible to save myself, but 
the boys must have had more brass in their 
faces than I had for I became ashamed of my- 
self and took the crank into my chair. I had 
just placed the towel around his neck and he 
said, "Now Mr. Barber, you will observe that 
I have a very tender face, and there is but one 
barber that ever shaved me successfully, and 
to my satisfaction." 

"Oh," said I, "who told you that your 
face was so tender?" 

" I observed that from the cut of my bar- 
ber's knife, and my barber," said he. 

"Well, but how does your barber know 
that you have a tender face?" 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 89 

'*Say, Mr. Tonsorial Artist," said he, "this 
isn't an idiotic profession of yours is it ? " 

*'Not on your chrysanthemum," said I, "but 
the time might come when a lot of Laplanders 
like yourself, throughout the states will set 
the barbers crazy as bed-bugs. Anyhow, let 
it be as it may, I will ask you how long a 
time does that barber of yours usually take in 
shaving you?" 

"Oh, I don't know, perhaps forty minutes." 
"Any tips connected with the shave?" 
"Well, yes, I usually give him twenty-five 
cents for a shave." 

"Well, my friend, let me tell you some- 
thing; that barber of yours is no good, he 
is a time-killer and a soldier. Thinks he is 
the whole push. I'll bet he pats his pet's faces 
nicely for the tips he gets from them; and 
during his shaving act with you and others, 
has a song and dance about the difficult beards 
and tender faces to take your and their minds 
away from his old iron razors. I expect he is 
what / call a scraper. That is, one who takes 
about six hundred strokes to a shave. That 
isn't barbering, oh no, for no first class bar- 
ber can afford to spend forty minutes on any 
man's face. If he would do that with all of 
his trade, he must in the wind-up live on soup. 
Forty minutes is too much time to use on a 
hair cut and shave. I usually take thirty min- 
utes on that kind of a job." 



90 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

*'Well," said he, "I don't care to have that 
kind of a barber work on me. I always pay 
the price, then some; and must have a good 
long time with my barbering." 

"My friend," said I, "You are too late, 
your shave is complete, and when your hair 
is combed you will have been in my chair 
just fifteen minutes; and without pain or 
blood-shed. By the way, where does that 
barber of yours reside ? " 

"Well, sir, his home is at Pittsburgh, Pa." 

"Oh, yes, that city I understand is in the 
coal regions. More grit on the customers' 
faces than we have in this niche of woods. 
You tell that barber of yours to come down 
to Baltimore and I'll give him a few pointers 
on hoaning and razor strokes, so that he will 
be able in case of emergency to take that 
beard of yours off in eight minutes." 

"Now, Mr. Barber, I'll tell him nothing; 
for I do not care to spoil a good thing." 

"Oh, well, a monopoly on your face may 
be a good thing for you, but its no good for 
that barber of yours. I, myself, am bitterly 
opposed to monopohes and trusts; but that 
does me no good. It seems that this govern- 
ment does not belong to the people, therefore, 
the people are not monarchs of all they survey." 

He then said, ** I have now spent too much 
time with you on an argument that amounts 



I 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 91 

to nothing, and shall now retire from this shop 
in peace; hoping that we may never meet 
again." 

He then started for the door. I called to him 
and said, "Say, stranger, that isn't my wish; I 
hope that at some time we may meet in the 
sweet fields of Eden where the bumble-bees 
are blooming." 

" Mr. Barber, said he, you have recited a part 
of your smartness wrong; you should have 
said, where the tree of life is blooming. You 
will never know as much as a woodchuck; 
for your nose and brain are too short." 

**I beg pardon, sir, for my forgotten knowl- 
edge, and as for my short nose, I can con- 
scientiously say that its a daisy. The best I 
ever had or ever expect to have. It has smelled 
me out of a great many little difficulties. 
Therefore, I shall ever remain true to the same." 

"Aurevoir, Mr. Barber, aurevoir," said he. 

"The same to you, Mr. Stranger, the same 
to you," said I. And he was off. 

The boss made a kick over my plain talk 
to the stranger but it did him no good. 
Everything went with me when it come to 
taking my own part in the way of my profes- 
sion, and otherwise, if necessary. Had it not 
been for the soldiering the boys did, I never 
would have caught that crank; and the boss 
knew it. He wanted to know what I meant 



92 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

by soldiering. I told him that when I spoke of 
barber soldiers, I did not mean the kind we had 
in our civil or late war. Oh no, the boys were 
out in the field to fight; while the kind of 
soldiers 1 was speaking of were continually 
operating on blackheads and the scraping off 
of at least two layers of skin with each shave, 
then holding on hot towels to doctor up the 
smarting and burning sensations caused by 
their close shaving. It takes up lots of their 
time and that is what the soldier barbers like. 
Anything to set a great big moon faced squirrel 
or kicker in another man's chair. I think 
barbers that operate that way must have been 
born tired and should retire and live the life 
of a sluggard. I am giving it to you barber 
soldiers in hot sections, but nevertheless its 
true. It is also true that a great many pa- 
trons of barber shops can stand more probing, 
pulling and skinning, outside of a barber's 
chair than they can in one. It was always a 
mystery to me why this should be so and 
they not think much about it. I will class 
myself as one of the sluggards lust mentioned, 
for I have put in a part of my barbering days 
soldiering and playing horse; and am happy 
to say that I have now retired from that bus- 
iness forever. 1 don't know but what I have 
mentioned it before, if I have, I will repeat it, 
that my associates were usually those of my 



I 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 93 

own profession, and as it goes, ** birds of a 
feather flock together." Of course, I have met 
a few of the profession that I did not care to 
mingle with in my outings, or out in society. 

"Ha, ha, that word society makes you smile 
doesn't it brother; " but I've been there just the 
same. Can truly say that when in the com- 
pany of barbers, in doors or on the street, I 
used them all, good, bad and indifferent, color 
or tongue, with due respect. 1 so often thought 
of these words, "that six feet of earth make 
all men of one size." 

Of course, the rich can revel in luxury here 
in this world, but in the final wind-up you 
will find a great many of the old Grays to 
the front and singing, " There was an old soldier 
who had a wooden leg." I met in crossing 
the states many educated barbers and worthy 
of better positions; that is, positions that would 
bring them in more money. But no, they 
clung to their profession like a dog would to 
a bone, thinking perhaps it would be star- 
vation and the grave if they should quit the 
Tonsorial business. 

Well, a few more weeks had elapsed, and 
Chink-eye would again take me out for another 
time. This time was on Monday; an off day. 
We went to a garden; that's what Chink-eye 
called it; I added beer to the garden, then I 
had the right name for it. We first entered 



94 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

the saloon department, stepped up to the bar, 
drank a cock-tail, paid the price and passed 
along to the next inn, which was a place to 
sit down and rest, eat and drink if we felt 
like it. There were young ladies present to 
wait on us, and drink with us, if we cared 
for them to do so. I did not care very much 
to have the girls drink with us, but did 
finally consent; for they were little daisies, 
and entertained us so nicely with their con- 
versation. We finally became filled up to our 
capacity, and in rising from my chair I in 
some way dropped a small coin. On stooping 
to pick up that same coin a little Billy Goat 
that had gotten loose somewhere in the rear 
end of the building, and that I had not dis- 
covered, struck me in the rear like a hay-baler. 
I fell forward on the floor a full length monkey. 
I could not imagine what in blazes had struck 
me, but knew to a certainty that I was up 
against something. On rising to my feet I 
turned to see where that bump came from, 
and behold a little Billy Goat was preparing 
for his second rush at me. I stood pat and 
eyed the little fellow for a time, thinking what 
I must do to be saved. I by chance spied a 
hatchet hanging on a nail on an upright timber 
and tenderly gathered it in and prepared for 
the rush. It came, and before Billy reached 
me I stepped to one side and hit him a sock- 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 95 

doliger between his eyes. He fell, and by old 
Jim Finkell, he never got up. I then looked 
around to see where my associates had gone. 
The first person I saw was Chink-eye, and he 
was rubbering from behind a door that went 
out into the saloon, and the girls were perched 
on a table making goo-goo eyes at me. I, 
of course, said nothing, thinking it might 
make matters still worse. And while the 
crowd was gathering around the corpse of 
that Billy Goat, I took a sneak. I imagined 
that some sympathizer of Billy might arrest 
me for cruelty to animals. I did not go to 
people's places of business to spend my money 
and suffer the butting and bumping of some 
beast of the field. Revenge is mine, so sayeth 
Frejohty. We did not enter our boarding- 
house that day, but went to a restaurant and 
ate a good square supper; and while eating 
that same square supper, we heard of a five 
round boxing contest between two hair-pullers 
out in a suburban part of the city, and that 
the price of admission was but two dollars. 
Now, what I mean by hair-pullers is, that 
two women would do the boxing. All was 
ready and we boarded the first street car going 
that way. We reached the battle-field in good 
condition, paid the price, and were very lucky 
in getting a seat off to the side aisle, and 
pretty well to the front. The hall held per- 



96 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

haps three hundred people, and was quite 
well filled. "Say, of all the gatherings that I 
ever witnessed, this one capped the climax. 
Every kindred and tongue, from a nicely 
dressed gentleman to that of a bull pup." It 
was still fifteen minutes until the contest would 
commence. 1 felt very uneasy and said to 
Chink-eye, " Say, Chink-eye, what's all this 
gang of heathens doing here anyway? I am 
fearful of our scalps before this thing is over 
with, what think you ? " 

"Well, Frejolity, we will live in hopes, and 
if we must fight our way out, let's give them 
the best we have for our defense. I have a 
little stick here in my pocket that I can drop 
a few of them with. What have you, Fre- 
jolity, in the way of your protection ? " 

"Well, Mr. Chink-eye, I have in my top 
vest pocket an old plain ground Wade and 
Butcher, sharper than any corn-husker's razor 
that I ever saw, 1 will use that in case of 
emergency." 

Just then the curtain went up and the 
rounds and rules for the contest were an- 
nounced. The girls came in on the stage 
from either side, met in the center and stood 
there until time was called. It was to be a 
five round contest and to a finish. The girls 
were as plump as pigeons and wore suits of 
the same style that men boxers do. The 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 97 

heaviest girl of the two wore a little green 
cap, the other one a red cap. Suppose those 
colors were to represent Ireland and Spain. 
At least, the Irish and Spanish that were 
present were at loggerheads almost immedi- 
ately after the girls came out on the stage. 
The rounds were to be three minutes long, one 
minute for wind and repairs. Time was finally 
called, they shook hands and at it they went. 
By the gravy, I never witnessed such batting 
of the air in my life. They had been at it just 
about two minutes when Spain in some way 
got in a punch on Ireland's nose. Down she 
went like a beef, with blood galore. Every- 
body was on their feet, hats and caps in the 
air, and holloing like they do on the Chi- 
cago Board of Trade. No more boxing was 
done in that round and was one score for 
Spain. During the one minute rest for the 
boxers, we were entertained with a real fight 
in the audience, just a short distance from 
Chink-eye and Frejolity; it was waxing warm 
and the crowd was getting fearful. Someone 
threw a bottle, struck my lid and knocked off 
the upper story. I kept my peace and laughed 
about it, for I knew that Chink-eye and Fre- 
jolity were mingling with an element that was 
fierce in the extreme. That fight closed with 
but one man taken to the hospital for repairs. 
The second round was called and at it they 
7 



98 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

went ca-biff, ca-bump. The crowd again 
raised to their feet shutting off my view entirely. 
But I still had rubber enough in my neck to 
see both Spain and Ireland go to the floor. 
That closed the second round with a draw. 
The girls panted like porpoises, and both of 
them just about winded, and blood still ooz- 
ing from Ireland's fractured nose. They were 
neither of them fit for the third round, but time 
was called and at it they went. The ire of Ire- 
land and Spain had come to a welding heat, and 
we felt that our carcasses were not worth a 
rupee. Time was very near up when Spain by 
some awkward striking hit Ireland a knock- 
out blow on that same nose ending that fight 
as far as they were concerned. Then I heard 
someone yell "foul and to never give up that 
fifty." Another voice " yes you will or blood." 
You see, the contest was to be for fifty dollars 
to the winner. Well, pandemonium reigned. 
Out went the electric lights and seven or eight 
shots were fired heavenward. At least, the 
flashes were of an upward tendency. Chink- 
eye dropped to the floor, and so did I. Pres- 
ently on came the lights and we raised to our 
seats. During the darkness there was a general 
fight in progress between Ireland and Spain. 
You all know how it is in a fight, everybody 
usually rushes in that direction. We were near 
the side aisle and it was quite possible for an 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 99 

exit out of that rebellion; so down the aisle we 
went with Chink-eye in the lead. Just before 
reaching the door we became mixed up in 
a gang of pickpockets, but pushing forward 
like a couple of mogul engines, / finally reached 
the sidewalk without a scratch. But soon 
discovered that 1 had been touched for fifteen 
dollars; all the money that I had with me. 
Chink-eye had one of his pant's pockets cut 
down some five inches. In his case it was 
no good for the pickpockets, as he was on 
his uppers; having spent the last two dollars 
he had for a ticket to that boxing contest. 
The serious part of the whole affair was with 
Chink-eye; as the intended thief s knife had cut 
a slit in Chink-eye's thigh just as long as the 
slit in his pocket. I suppose we were both 
mad, for I had been robbed and Chink-eye 
had a nasty flesh wound. We were standing 
close to the entrance of that hall, and our time 
around there must be short and revengeful. 
I said, "Say, Chink-eye, let's hit the first two 
gutter-snipes that come this way, then take 
to our heels, what say you?" 

"Count me in," said Chink-eye, "and here 
comes a couple of them now." 

"Now, Chink-eye, you paste it to that 
woodchuck on your side, and I'll attend to 
his side partner." 

1 used my fist, what Chink-eye used I do 



100 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

not know. Anyhow, they both hit the ground, 
and we were off. Just one square of speed, 
and we caught a car for the city proper. I 
went with Chink-eye to his boarding-house, 
then procured the services of a doctor. It 
took twelve stitches to close up that gap in 
Chink-eye's leg; and in so doing he moaned 
like a whangdoodle after its first born. I felt 
sorry for him, but it had to be done. When 
all was complete I bid my side partner good- 
night and went to my place of staying. This 
little outing as I called it, was on Monday and 
Monday night; and with the misfortunes that 
we had met with, we of course were not fit 
to labor on the following Tuesday. You see, 
I had just commenced to feel the bump of 
that confounded Billy Goat, and Chink-eye 
would not be able to go to work for over 
two weeks. 1 showed up at the shop on 
Wednesday morning rather stiff and rigid. 
The boys guyed me on account of my stiffness 
and wanted to know if I had been struck by 
a pile-driver. I told them that I hoped not, 
but that something had struck me in the rear 
and almost severed my spinal column. The 
proprietor then asked me where Chink-eye 
was. I told him that he had met with an 
accident and would not be able to work for 
a couple of weeks. "Well," said he, "if 
that's the case I'll get another man in his 
place." 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 101 

''Then, Mr. Beefey, I suppose when Chink- 
eye gets well you will still employ him, will 
you not? " 

"No, Mr. Frejolity, I don't do business that 
way." 

"All right, Mr. Beefey, then you can just hunt 
up two barbers instead of one. 1 quit you 
right here." I gathered up my hooks, bid 
the boys and Beefey good-bye and left that 
shop forever. 

1 had only been in the city about ten 
months, but that made no difference to me. 
1 went down to see Chink-eye, told him of 
the result of our outing, and that I would 
leave Baltimore on the evening train for Phila- 
delphia. Tears came in his eyes, and I said, 
" whangdoodle." Before leaving Chink-eye, I 
presented him with a ten dollar bill, then took 
him by the hand for a farewell shake, and 
perhaps forever. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

I reached Philadelphia, the Quaker City, stiff 
and sore. A remembrance of that little Billy 
Goat. 

I did not care to strike a job before Mon- 
day morning, but did help a brother out on 
the first Saturday I was in the city at sixty 
cents on the dollar; netting me six dollars for 
the day. I had found just a fair boarding- 
house at five dollars per week, and my first 
Sunday in that city was spent in lounging 
around the house, and on Monday morning I 
made the start. I soon found a position in a 
five chaired shop at fourteen dollars straight, 
and the proprietor seemingly a fine gentleman. 
My experience during the ten months I had 
worked in Baltimore was greater than in any 
of the cities in which I had worked up to that 
time, and my savings fell short some fifty 
dollars. So I determined to get back the loss 
in Philadelphia that I met with in Baltimore. 
1 believe I found more cranks and kickers in 
Philadelphia than all the other shops combined 
that I had worked in, but held my own with 
all the difficulties that came up. 

I had been with Mr. Fry, (as that was his 

108 



104 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

name) just two months, and being at leisure 
for a few moments, stepped to the front to 
gaze out at the moving traffic. Presently up 
stepped a fine looking gentleman, stopped at 
the door and ordered me to open it for him. 
That was all right, for I thought the man might 
be crippled in some way in his hands or he 
would not have asked that of me, so I opened 
the door and in he came just as important 
and dignified as you please, and could use his 
hands just as freely as I could mine. Walk- 
ing to the rack he hung up his hat, then said, 
"you scrapers must not think you are the 
Goulds or Vanderbilts; I came here to be 
waited on." 1 was standing at my chair and 
waiting for one of the other men to say some- 
thing to him but they did not. I then an- 
swered his remark by saying, "that we were 
not here to open the door for jags. We always 
have pride enough within us to help a cripple 
or invalid at any and all occasions, and sir, if 
you arc crippled in any way, it must be an 
abscess or water on the brain. Otherwise 
than that I think you a sound man." 

"Well, Mr. Shaver." said he, "I can tell 
you in very short order my thoughts of you." 
I held my shaving cup by the handle, it was 
large and heavy, and this is what he said, 
"Mr. Barber, you remind me very much of a 
policeman that I found one night in the gutter, 



I 



V. MAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 106 

and, on a doctor's examination, found quite a 
large fracture in his skull, and perhaps, one- 
third of a tcacupful of his brain had oozed out 
upon the ground. The policeman finally came 
to, and the doctor asked him if he had better 
put those brains of his back into his knot. 
'Oh, no,' said he, * it doesn't require any 
brains to be a policeman.' Now, that is what 
1 think of you and your profession." I felt 
that yellow streak, but threw the mug, and it 
landed just below his left eye, sending him to 
the floor. I, as usual, took a sneak by the rear 
door and did not show up until the next 
morning. All was rosy with Mr. Fry, who 
thought that 1 had given him just what he 
was looking for. He did not get his work 
done in that shop, and left with one eye 
closed (so the boys said), and revenge on his 
lips. I was one of those barbers that feared 
no man, just as long as they did not catch 
me. Well, as time went on, there were a 
great many cases of barber's itch materialized 
in the city, and our customers became quite 
uneasy. I suppose they thought it would be 
sure death to them if they were inoculated. 
Of course, some quit shaving, and I did not 
care; for they were swells. There was a gen- 
eral kick started that the barbers must use 
some means by which the trade would be 
protected from that inoculation. We barbers 



106 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

had just been talking of the hornet's nest that 
was being stirred up over the city, when in 
came a large portly dentist for a shave. I 
usually did his work, and while shaving him 
he broached the subject. He, too, proposed 
the protection of the trade against the itch. 
It seemed that I was the talking barber of that 
shop, and they depended entirely on me to 
protect our rights. I told him that I expected 
he thought that all barbers should go through 
with a rigid examination, such as the color of 
the skin, condition of same, how many pores 
to the square inch, the cause and effect of the 
itch, and all other diseases that might mate- 
rialize from impure blood. Also dip their razors 
in some strong solution or hot water at a 
certain temperature immediately after shaving 
each and every customer. A barber of late 
years loses enough time shaving necks, trim- 
ming out the ears and nose, then cutting the 
long suckers out of eye-brows, without 
the time and expense of dipping his tools. 
There is a law in a few of the states com- 
pelling barbers to dip their tools and pass an 
examination. 1 think that law is one of im- 
pudence on the part of the man that intro- 
duced it. Its true, that the majority of the 
trade would be protected, but tell me, please, 
where the barbers get their protection. Must 
they shave all or any of the diseased faces. 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 107 

work on their scalps, do all this dipping of 
tools for the protection of their trade ? I say 
no, let those who want their faces and heads 
protected from disease do their own barbering, 
until we can have a law that any and all bar- 
bers caught working on a man with a dis- 
eased face or scalp that could be inoculated 
to the next man, fine that barber ten dollars 
and costs, and for each and every offense 
thereafter. In that way the barbers would 
have a good excuse for refusing to work on 
that kind of people, and it would save the 
profession a great deal of embarrassment. It 
is hard for a barber to say no in such cases, 
because some of them are your friends, I 
know, for I have been there. Then again, the 
man with diseased blood has no respect for 
his barber, or he would not present himself at 
the shop or shops to have his work done. 
Why not carry his hair with him until he is 
a fit subject to sit in a barber's chair ? Its a 
luxury anyway. I don't think that barbers 
should be thought of as filthy humanity by 
any other humanity, that by chance are inoc- 
ulated with parasite eczema. Listen, I will 
tell you what 1, by chance, heard spoken by 
a professional doctor. It happened that I was 
in his office at the time. A gentleman came 
in with a sore face and asked the doctor con- 
cerning his trouble. Well, my friend, said the 



108 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

doctor, you have what I call the barber's itch, 
and would advise you to change your place of 
shaving. That doctor could just as well have 
said, you have parasite eczema, stop shaving 
for a few weeks and dust on your sores oc- 
casionally, zinc oxide. This was in the month 
of October, now I will tell you something of 
what an expert skin doctor told me in regard 
to that same itch. 

This conversation took place in his office in 
New York City. 1 addressed him in this way. 
**Say, Doc, 1 have been told that you have 
the reputation of being an expert skin doctor ? 
Will you please tell me if there is any other 
way whereby parasite eczema can be inoc- 
ulated from one man's face to another, other- 
wise than in barber shops and poluted towels 
in public places?" 

"Well, Mr. Frejolity, my reading and ex- 
perience has taught me, that men oftentimes 
step out of their own homes, with their own 
shave into the open air, and if in the Fall of 
the year (which is considered the worst season 
for floating parasites) and should one of those 
little poison mites alight on their face, a sore 
would be the result, and the majority of the 
doctors would pronounce it the barber's itch." 
So, you see, oftentimes the barber must suffer 
for some invisible something that floats in the 
air of God's beautiful world. I will say to my 



I 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 109 

brother journeyman barbers, refuse to work 
on such people if you know it. I liked the 
business fairly well until I learned human na- 
ture. Its a wonderful nature, isn't it? There 
might be a few Job barbers in this land of 
ours, but you can count me out. In my ten 
years' experience as a barber, two of those 
years was as a proprietor, and the other eight 
a sort of a slave. Anyhow, while doing bus- 
iness for myself, or at any time, 1 can truth- 
fully say that I never swelled up or considered 
myself above any man. I was a union man 
in principal and stayed by their prices. No 
five cent shaves or fifteen cent hair cuts went 
with me. The love I had for my stomach 
would not allow it. I was also a barber that 
was strongly in favor of the eight o'clock 
closing five nights each week, and fifty-two 
weeks in each year. Was dead sore on the 
opening of the shops on Sunday forenoons, 
which is done to a very great extent, espe 
cially in the hotel shops of the cities. I my- 
self had all the barbering 1 cared for six days 
out of seven; and to work on the forenoon of 
the seventh day for the sake of knocking out 
a few dollars for a tight wad, I would not. 
Now what 1 mean by a tight wad, is this. I 
have worked for a few barber proprietors in 
my time that neither smoked, chewed or drank 
the beverage; neither did they drink tea or 



no WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

coffee; none of these things, not even for 
pleasure, sociability or durability. All they 
seemed to care for was to count their quarters 
and dimes, then go to the rear end of the shop 
and recount them, fearing that one little in- 
significant coin might have gotten away. The 
dentist could not see everything in the same 
light that I did, and thought our prices a lit- 
tle steep. I told him that he could pull a 
tooth in one-half minute and receive for the 
same, fifty cents. Could also take an impres- 
sion, make a set of teeth in eight hours, and 
receive fifteen dollars for that; and so with all 
other of his work, prices in proportion. His 
feathers dropped. He took offense at what I 
had said and quit that shop. The boss, Mr. 
Fry, upbraided me for the truth I had told 
that doctor and I retaliated, gathered up my 
tools, and quit him about the same time that 
doctor quit me. 

I wasn't caring very much whether 1 ever 
worked another day as a journeyman barber, 
and would look up a nice little shop in a good 
location, and make the purchase. I was not 
without coin. Oh, no and of which I will tell 
you later on. I finally found a four chaired 
shop that just suited me and bought it for 
four hundred dollars. I was one barber short 
and telegraphed for Chink-eye to come. One 
message was enough, for he was right on 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 111 

hand like a wart. I put Chink-eye on the first 
chair, as I knew his work was first class. 
The other two men that were with me were, 
of course, strangers, but nice quiet boys. I 
gave Chink-eye twelve dollars a week, the 
second man eleven, the third ten, and I took 
the leavings whatever it might be. I had two 
bath-tubs in connection with the shop, and 
the first week we copped out sixty-five dollars. 
My expenses for that week were forty-nine 
dollars and eighty cents. I was satisfied and 
felt that we could by the time eight months 
had rolled around, improve the trade at least 
forty per cent. When it reached forty per 
cent. 1 began to think that humanity was 
loosening. 1 did not care to take all the big 
end of the profits, so 1 raised Chink-eye's 
wages to fourteen dollars, Ward's to thirteen, 
and Benskins to twelve. I of course had but 
two more months in the city, then I would 
be off for New York. I thought the boys 
would profit at least a little in those two 
months, and would surely strengthen our 
friendship. One week later I articled with the 
man at the second chair, Mr. Ward, for two 
months hence at six hundred dollars. And said 
to Chink-eye, that if I would go into business 
for myself in New York, if he would come and 
work for me. He promised me that he would. 
You see, that ten months of being my own 



112 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

boss forever spoiled me of working as a 
journeyman barber. And to think how much 
money I had lost by so doing made me feel sick. 
Anyhow, the time had flown and it was no 
use to cry over spilled milk. One day we 
were all sitting in the shop with nothing to 
do; I looked over at Chink-eye; he was sit- 
ting there reading the news; it came to my 
mind of that narrow escape we had at that 
boxing contest at Baltimore; and I said, "Say, 
Chink-eye, did you read that article in the 
paper about that whangdoodle?" 

'*No I didn't, Frejolity, but the night I had 
my leg slit, 1 heard one moaning." 

"That was a hot time, wasn't it Chink- 
eye.?" 

"You bet, and say Frejolity, I suppose you 
remember the beer-garden ? and the royal 
bump that Billy Goat gave you?" 

"Very distinctly, Mr. Chink-eye, and I 
don't think 1 shall ever forget that memorable 
day and night; and sir, that bump little Billy 
gave me I feel I shall never fully recover from." 

"1 suppose not," said Chink-eye. "But 
how about the Billy Goat, do you think he 
will recover?" 

"Not much Mary Ann; for the last look I 
took at him he was having a congestive chill. 
You remember the morning papers came out 
in large headlines about the most diabolical 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 113 

murder ever committed on a dumb animal, 
and that twenty-five dollars reward would be 
given for the arrest of the murderer. That 
hurt my feelings considerable, but I held my 
peace, for I well knew on which side my 
bread was buttered." 

"Well, Mr. Frejolity, I presume you also 
remember distinctly the flashy headlines in that 
same paper concerning that boxing contest; 
you know you brought the paper down to 
my boarding-house, as I was not able to be 
out." 

"Yes, Chink-eye, I remember all of that 
and then some. It was a sorry old night for 
some of those Laplanders, for many of them 
were arrested and placed behind the bars. As 
far as the contest was concerned, I think it was 
all on the square. Never a foul was struck 
by Spain in that third round, and I was very 
much pleased when I saw an item in the 
paper a short time after that, saying that Spain 
received that fifty dollars. She well deserved 
it, for she finished Ireland up to a queen's taste. 
Say, Chink-eye, wasn't she a darling.?" 

"Don't mention it," said Chink-eye. "I 
never said anything to you about her beauty, 
and how I had fallen in love with her." 

"Now, Chink-eye, let me tell you some- 
thing; don't never marry a woman like that 
one; you know your failing; your face would 
8 



114 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

continually be in mourning." Just at that 
moment there passed five or six Gray horses 
one after a'nother. 1 noticed three or four of 
them watched our shop quite closely. I waited, 
and when they returned 1 grabbed a flattish 
like bottle off the dresser and shook it quite 
lively. They coughed, that settled it. They 
had made the turn. The city of Philadelphia 
beats them all out for Old Gray horses. 

There still remained one more week for me 
in the Quaker City, and I hated to leave it; 
for its a city of live and let live. On the 
coming Sunday, which was the next day, 1 
felt that 1 would like to take with me to New 
York a few oriental pigtails; or in other words, 
Chinese wigs, and made arrangements with 
Chink-eye to go with me to Chinatown in 
the evening. When the time arrived I slip- 
ped a pair of shears into my pocket for the 
occasion; Chink-eye did the same, and we 
arrived on the spot a little before dark. 

Now this Chinatown that I am about to tell 
you of is a locality the like of which the civ- 
ilized world cannot produce. The Chinatown 
of San Francisco, that of Denver, and the Mott 
Street district of New York are different. The 
Chinatown of Philadelphia is as deep a mys- 
tery to Philadelphians as is Mars. Dark, 
dirty and forbidding, Chinatown rests secure, 
and the Cantonose in the colony smile serenely 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 115 

and are silent. The picturesque yet unsightly 
block called Chinatown fronts on Race street, 
between Ninth and Tenth, and embraces in all 
about one city square. It has no creed or 
color; the Christian Mission is tolerated, the 
joss-house is supported, but the masses will 
have to do with neither. The section opens 
soon after midnight, and is scarcely worth a 
visit until that hour. The excitement lasts 
some two or three hours and then silence 
reigns. Lee Tay, the Mayor of Chinatown, 
says, that only one thousand Chinamen live in 
Philadelphia. Reverend Frederick Root who 
was in charge of the Christian Mission fixes 
the number at about three thousand, and the 
police assert that there are no less than five 
thousand in the city every Sunday. Anyhow, 
Chink-eye and 1 were there good and strong, 
but not strong enough to remain long, as it 
was dangerous ground to be treading over 
after dark. They reminded me very much of 
those wharf rats down at New Orleans, in 
at one door, out at another. Men, women 
and children, all dirty and degrading. We 
spent a couple of dollars apiece in a dope den 
while watching and waiting for an opportun- 
ity to sever their pigtails, but the longer we 
remained the more dangerous it seemed for 
us, so we thought it best to be out on the 
street; and to the street we went. In prom- 



116 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

enading around we met a couple of fairly nice 
looking Chinese ladies and went with them 
for a little stroll. Chink-eye and his partner 
were but a short distance in advance of me, 
and but a few minutes had elapsed when I 
heard Chink-eye's girl give an awful squall. 
That of course stirred up quite a hornet's nest 
among the inhabitants of Chinatown, and I 
was off like a meteor. And before I had 
gotten out of that Chinatown, 1 had knocked 
down with my fist five men, upset three 
women and two kids. And during that heat, 
six bullets had missed me and the seventh 1 
was harboring in the calf of my left leg. 
Fifty-one bullets under those circumstances 
would not have stopped me, for 1 realized if 
caught, that hash meat would have been my 
doom. My speed and second wind took me to 
my boarding-house in safety, but must have that 
Chinese bullet pulled out of its hiding before 
retiring for the night. I went to a nearby 
doctor, he smiled, he pushed, he pulled, I 
squealed, and I squalled, but it did no good, 
come it must, come it did. The pain in my 
leg did not bother me, but not knowing how 
Chink-eye escaped gave me considerable worry. 
When I arrived at the shop the next morn- 
ing. Chink-eye was there as sound as a daddy 
dollar. "Hello there, Chink-eye," said I. "1 
am happy to see you. How are all the folks?" 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 117 

"Oh," said he, '*Pap and Mam are well, 
and I am free from bullet holes and bullets. 
Also short of Chinese pigtails or parts of 
Chinese pigtails. 1 suppose, Frejolity, that 
you met the enemy heroically?" 

''Well, yes, Chink-eye, I met several of 
them, but not very heroically as you call it. 
You know that a dead hero is no good, so I 
retired from the scene rathei a lively coward. 
Look here Chink-eye," showing him the bul- 
let, " 1 brought this with me as a remem- 
brance of our last outing together in the city 
of Philadelphia." 

'•But where did you get it?" said Chink- 
eye. 

"Why, in the leg; one of those almond- 
eyed wharf rats fired it into the calf of my 
leg last night." 

"Tough luck Frejolity, and how did you 
get home ? " 

"Say, Chink-eye, don't you think for one 
moment that a piece of lead the size of that 
located where it was would ever stop me. 
And you bet I reached my boarding-house on 
New York Central time, and I'll be in trim to 
start for New York on the coming Sunday." 
My last Saturday's work came to a close at 
12 M. I handed my hired man, Mr. RufTner, 
the key, and in return he presented me with 
six crisp one hundred dollar bills. I made a 



118 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

call at the shop on Sunday morning to shave 
myself and to bid the boys a last good-bye. 
I always done my own shaving, as barbers 
do not care very much to shave one another. 
Once over and I was ready to take my leave 
for the metropolis of the world. Bidding the 
boys good-bye, with best wishes for their suc- 
cess through life, 1, my little valise and Chink- 
eye boarded a car for the station. 



CHAPTER IX. 

I had just twenty minutes to rubber, and 
the train that I was to take came thundering 
along. I once more shook the hand of my 
friend Chink-eye, and climbed on board of 
the old smoky looking wheeler. "All aboard, " 
brawled out a big-mouthed Irish conductor, 
and away we went. Sometimes straight up, 
then straight down; over trussels and through 
trussels; around the hills, and through the hills; 
any way to get there, expecting every moment 
to be plunged into eternity. It reminding me 
somewhat of my ride through Colorado. Will 
give the reader the rules and regulations of 
that road from a card handed to me by a 
brother passenger. It reads like this:— 

"Dispatched every morning. Quickest time. 
Rum Policy, President. 
Sure Death, Superintendent. 

"Through tickets are sold by all sample rooms 
and rum holes. They being our only author- 
ized agents. The rates of fare are higher by 
this than any other route, but the speed with 
which the journey is accompHshed more than 
compensates the difference in the fare. 

119 



120 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

"All trains are through trains, and passengers 
by this route were never known to fail in 
making good connections. 

*' All trains will stop at Reformation Burg, or 
Temperance Town, if passengers desire to 
leave the train at either of these stations. 
But all persons so stopping will forfeit their 
through tickets to Sulphurdom. Sleeping cars 
are provided for through passengers who will 
be awakened frequently, that an opportunity 
for Alcoholic refreshments may be given. 
Baggage or clothing taken as security for pas- 
sage. A pawn-broker accompanying every 
train. Any passenger discovered on board 
without money, ticket or security, will be im- 
mediately thrown off without stopping the 
train. 

** Special trains will be dispatched at any 
time an application is made to the Superin- 
tendent for political conventions, picnic par- 
ties and all associations owing allegiance to 
King Gamberimus or King Alcohol." 

You now have the rules and regulations 
of that railroad on paper. 

1 arrived in New York City sound as a 
dollar, with the exception of slight traces of 
soreness in the calf of my leg, caused by that 
Mongolian bullet at Philadelphia, That was 
all right, and we, Chink-eye and I, were thank- 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 121 

ful that we both lived, moved, and had our 
scalps and thoughtful minds beneath those 
same scalps. After I had reached New York 
proper I seemed very much at a loss to know 
what to do first; so I took a little hot whiskey; 
and by the way it tasted it must have been 
less than sixty-five proof. Kentucky is the 
place to get your good whiskey; no sixty-five 
proof set out to a man there; its usually ninety 
and one hundred. 1 suppose they reserve the 
high grade barleycorn for the old broken down 
sports of that city. Anyhow, I failed to get 
what 1 paid for. I then swallowed some 
bread and porter-house steak with a strong 
cup of coffee for a rinser. With that down, 
I felt stronger and ready to make the start to 
find a place to eat and sleep. Also a place 
where a man's life would be safe with a dol- 
lar in his pocket. That village was a little too 
large for me to act as my own judge, and 
the first time that 1 asked the assistance of a 
brother in my lodge. His knowledge of that 
city, or parts of it, found for me the best 
place at which 1 had yet stopped, but the 
price was eight dollars a week, board and 
lodging. That was alright, there was a city 
with stacks of money piled up in the win- 
dows. I stopped several times to investigate 
the material, and those big Irish policemen 
would say, ''keep moving" and I would move. 



122 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

I was onto those fellows, especially the Irish. 
Think they would not trade places with Oom 
Paul. I felt that I would soon be getting a 
little of that same kind of stuflf that I saw in 
the large windows of New York City. On 
Wednesday morning I purchased a six chaired 
shop, a little out from a little the fastest hus- 
tle and bustle that I ever saw. That was all- 
right, for it was business. I paid for that six 
chaired shop, and two bath-tubs even eight 
hundred dollars; then I telegraphed Chink-eye. 
He soon arrived and we were once more happy 
together. Counting myself, I had a full set of 
barbers. Starting Chink-eye on the first chair 
at fourteen dollars per week, the second at 
thirteen, the third at twelve, then eleven and 
ten dollars, made my expense, all told, about 
ninety-eight dollars per week. The boy that 
kept the shop in order and waited on the 
trade, received all extras, which netted him 
ten dollars a week. Some of my trade was a 
little on the dirty order, that is, with them- 
selves. I tried every way to train them other- 
wise, and at the same time not hurt their 
feelings. Not succeeding we took another 
way to accomplish that end, and the first 
thing we knew those chaps had gone else- 
where with their work and cleanlier trade soon 
filled their places. The first week my profits 
were cut down to five dollars in the hole. 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 128 

The boys wanted to make it up, but I said 
"no, that will come back to me tenfold be- 
fore my year comes to a close." It did, and 
the boys knew it when I raised their wages. 
The first six months my banking averaged me 
over and above all expenses, thirty dollars per 
week. Had it gotten any better than that, or 
not quite so much, I would have been satis- 
fied. There is much to be seen in New York, 
more than I am able to tell you. I surveyed 
a portion of it on foot, and another portion 
of it on two wheels; I biked it a few times 
up a long street, down a short street, and 
around any old street. When I say around 
any old street, I don't mean around the big 
city, I guess not, but just enough to realize 
that I was not in Upper Sandusky, Ohio, the 
little Indian village. I would be pleased to 
see that village, as I have heard so much of it 
in passing through the central states. People 
can talk of the sky-scrapers of Chicago, Balti- 
more, Philadelphia and Boston, but I'll bet 
that if any of you who have read this book 
should go to New York (that has never been 
there), would come very near unjointing your 
necks looking upward to see the heights of 
some of those buildings. I did not stop to 
investigate them any length of time, or I might 
have had an attack of Spinal Menengitis. I've 
been there, slept there, and suffered many a 



124 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

sleepless night with insomnia, thinking of 
wind, lightning, fire and the poor suffering 
humanity that live and move in that city, 
looking for anything that would keep soul 
and body together. Lightning, wind and fire, 
always did scare me, especially in the cities. 
The flashes seem sharper, the wind stronger, 
and the fire escape harder to find. Whenever 
there was a frightful storm came along, and 
wherever it caught me, 1 wilted like a whipped 
pup, and thought to myself, well done good 
and faithful servant, go up higher. But 1 never 
went up. The ground was usually high enough 
to suit me in time of storm. That floor storm 
Chink-eye and I were in at that boxing con- 
test at Baltimore, made me feel like crawling 
into some rat or crawfish hole. 

Well, Chink-eye and myself had been fig- 
uring on going out for some kind of a time. 
It did not make much difference to us what 
kind of a time that time was, just so we got 
our money's worth. By chance I got a tip 
from a friend of Chink-eye's, and a customer 
of our shop, of a ratting match that was to 
take place in rather a low groggery not far 
from Greenwood Cemetery. The roughs and 
toughs from New York, Brooklyn, New Jersey 
and Staten Island were to be present. Such 
sport would be something new to us and we 
would go. The contest was to come off on 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 126 

the coming Thursday night and to be on the 
quiet. Chink-eye's friend gave us a recom- 
mend and number so that all would be smooth 
sailing for us. When we went to supper I 
told the boys that we would not return to the 
shop any more that night, and that the second 
man should make up the cash for that day. 
Chink-eye dined with me that evening after 
which we boarded a car for the scene; arriv- 
ing on the spot in good time. No trouble 
whatever in getting in with our recommend 
and the price. There were seven dogs, to 
each dog there were allowed 25 rats, and the 
dog killing his quota in the quickest time to 
take the pool of $350.00, which was the 
amount put up by the owners of the dogs. 
The rules did not allow the cracking of the 
rats, which means, taking a pair of pinchers 
and snapping off their teeth. The dogs there- 
fore, had hard work before them. Laddie 
Dugan was chosen referee. New York had 
the first inning and produced a pretty little 
black-and-tan creature who seemed to enjoy 
her opportunity. It was a snap and a throw 
for each rat, and in eight minutes and ten 
seconds the 25 were dead in the pit. This 
was not regarded by the company as very 
quick work, and bets were freely offered that 
the next dog would beat it. The proprietor 
had the next turn, and brought out an English 



126 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

Terrier. He did well until a big rodent turned 
upon him; he then weakened and his work 
was not completed before sixteen minutes had 
elapsed. It was Staten Island's turn next, and 
Williamson who represented it brought out an 
Irish Bull Terrier with teeth almost as sharp 
as a dagger's point. He had had considerable 
experience and finished his task in four min- 
utes and forty seconds. The best time made; 
and received the pool. New Jersey's turn 
came next with an Irish white Bull Terrier, 
and his 25 rats were dead in eight minutes 
after he began. On this dog I won twenty- 
five dollars. New York's chance came again, 
and a sharp Scotch Terrier was brought for- 
ward. He finished in seven minutes and one 
second. Brooklyn came with another black- 
and-tan that had taken part in several matches 
before and always came off the victor and the 
betting was heavy. Chink-eye managed to 
get up $60.00, and Frejolity but $30.00. When 
he was let into the pit, the rats scattered in 
all directions, and had it not been for that 
scatterment he would, in the estimation of 
the crowd, have won the pool; as it was, he 
finished in five minutes. I had bet my $30.00 
on five minutes time, and again was winner; 
making me a total of $55.00 better off than 
when I came. Chink-eye won his $60.00 on 
four minutes and fifty seconds against five 



1 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 127 

and one-half minutes. The next dog was 
from Williamsburg, and of no account; for 
after killing fifteen of his rodents he backed 
down. Now, as I said before, this gathering 
was made up of roughs and toughs, and a 
man with little experience with dogs and rats 
should keep that little experience under his 
hat. For, with one misplaced word he was 
liable to get his nose punched. The losers in 
the different fights had gotten pretty well 
jagged, and were looking for trouble. Chink- 
eye and I smelled something brewing, the 
room was filled with all kinds of smoke flav- 
orings from that of a fine Havana filler to 
a rubbed up gutter snipe. I said to Chink- 
eye, ''here old boy, we've gotten all the 
dough out of this thing that's to be had, and 
its now high time for us to be pushing out 
of this." 

"Enough said," said Chink-eye, **for it 
looks very much like there was a hot wave 
coming." It was then 2 A. M. We had to 
pass through a dark room at the rear end of 
the building into an alley. We made a sly 
sneak and reached the alley and street in 
safety. More than we expected, for we had 
been watched. Anyhow, we had in our inside 
pockets a total of $115.00 of the old broken 
down boozer's money. The cab was as or- 
dered in waiting for us at a given number, 



128 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

and we were soon off for our little bed. 
Chink-eye slept and breakfasted with me, and 
we reached the shop the next morning at 9:30 
A. M. Everything was rosy there with the 
exception that one of the boys had had a little 
scrap with some kicker or smart Aleck that 
came in to have his hair cut. 1 suppose the 
swell had no confidence in Henry (as that 
was the barber's name, Henry Clouse), nor 
any other artist except his regular hair cutter. 
1 have seen barbers working at their chairs that 
were not artists enough to mix mud properly, 
suit some people just because of confidence. 
And be the work ever so homely, they would 
come again. I say, ** poor suffering humanity." 
1 did not care anything about the fight, only, 
I did not like to see my man scraping mugs 
with a couple of black eyes. I always told 
my men to shave the trade easy and smooth, 
charge for all extras, such as neck shaves, 
ear trims, eyebrow, moustache and nose trims. 
To cut their hair as near to their order as 
possible and nature would do the rest as it 
grew out. The funny part of his scrap was 
his black eyes he was carrying. He said his 
fighting partner had one front tooth knocked 
out, he did not care to take it with him, and 
handed it to me. I looked at it a moment 
and then said, ''Well, Henry, that's a tooth 
alright, was it hard to raise?" 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 129 

"Oh, no," said he, **one punch and it was 
all over; except the holloing. I rushed to 
the back room, for I was dazed so from his 
punches that I could scarcely see anything. 
He raved like a captured gorilla, and would 
listen to nothing; so I called in Mike the 
policeman and he took him away." 

The next sporting contest that we attended 
was a cocking main over in Jersey City, New 
Jersey. At this contest we had an interested 
party go with us. We entered a large well 
lighted basement by a rear cellar way, and 
was under a wholesale liquor store. The 
fighting of the cock-birds did not commence 
until all other business had closed, which was 
about 1 1 :^o P. M. That gathering of human- 
ity was a different looking people from those 
at the ratting contest. Fine looking men, 
dressed up-to-date and did not care for the 
losing of their money. The main commenced 
at 15 minutes of twelve P. M., lasted until 4 
A. M. It was another something new to 
Chink-eye and I and we watched very closely 
the first two fights, then commenced our bet- 
ting. My bets ranged from ten to twenty-five 
dollars a fight, and I was lucky enough to 
make eight bets. Three of them at twenty- 
five dollars each, winning two out of three. 
Three more at fifteen dollars each, winning 
two out of the three. The other two were of 
9 



130 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

$10.00 each, winning both of them; making 
me winner for the night just $100.00. Chink- 
eye did still better than I did. Out of four- 
teen tights he made ten bets, eight of them 
at §i>oo, two at ten; lost one $13.00 bet, 
and one of ten. Chink-eye's winnings were 
$1 15.00. We both felt gay and happy, thought 
we were the whole push. We left Jersey 
City so full of old John Barley Corn that we 
did not know whether we came back to New 
York on a ferry or swam it. What beat me, 
I couldn't think of Chink-eye's name. I called 
him whangdoodle. He was too drunk to re- 
member my name, and he called me Billy 
Goat. So it was Whang and Billy with us 
for at least two or three hours. By noon we 
were braced up fairly well, went to the shop 
together, played horse and soldiered on the 
boys all that afternoon. Finally, one of them 
said, "Say Frejolity, what in thunder is the 
matter with you and Chink-eye ? you both 
seem on the bum. If sick, 1 will call in a 
doctor. Or is it the loss of your long green 
that makes you feel and look so sick?" 

"Not much, Mary Ann," said I. 

"Oh, no, boys," said Chink-eye, "All 1 
wanted was a little bit off of the top, and 
here it is," pulling from his pocket that one 
hundred and fifteen dollar roll. The clock in 
the tower could not strike eight any too soon 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 131 

to suit US, for we were very tired and sleepy. 
By morning we had brightened up and bar- 
bering went along as of yore. Chink-eye and 
I had become fast friends, and usually, wher- 
ever one went the other followed. Time was 
swiftly passing by, and we felt like taking 
another change from that of barbering. It 
was on Friday, and on Saturday night we 
made out to visit the city of New Haven, 
Conn., as there was to be a two days' boat 
excursion up there, or down there, I don't 
know which way to call it, but know to a 
certainty that it was one way or the other; 
tnox nix ous with us. When Sunday morn- 
ing came we started for the dock. Just as 
we were about to board the steamer, I asked 
Chink-eye if he had brought a sufficient amount 
of the goods with him, as we could not tell 
what might turn up. "Oh, yes," said he, 
"Think a couple of fifties will be enough, 
what think you ?" 

"Well, Chink-eye, I'll tell you what I think, 
I think you have one fifty more than I have. 
I didn't suppose we were going down to 
New Haven to buy a farm, or I would have 
run a little extra wad of it down in my 
trousers. But that's alright, we may need it 
all and then some. Can't tell what the old 
blue laws have in store for us way down in 



132 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

Connecticut. You know they call that the 
little Nutmeg State." 

"Is that so?" said Chink-eye, " It might be 
that we will not be able to find a spot to sit 
down on when we reach the meg." 

"What meg is that, Chink-eye?" 

"Why, nutmeg, of course." 

"Don't get funny, Chink-eye, for I'll bet if I 
want to sit down, I'll find a place, if its on 
some big fat woman. You know, I don't care 
so very much who I sit down on when real 
tired." Anyhow, we were off for New Haven. 
I suppose a distance of at least one hundred 
miles from New York. The water was smooth 
just part way. Some six or seven hundred 
people were on board the vessel, and with a 
variety of the sweetest and sourest New York 
and Brooklyn Irish girls that 1 ever smiled 
upon. Chink-eye was wild with joy, he 
had caught on to about the prettiest little lady 
that I ever saw, and was loading her down 
with ice-cream sodas, bananas and peanuts. 
I told him on the Q. T. to let up or she 
might sicken on his hands. I was determined 
not to be out done by Chink-eye, so I pushed 
around over the vessel a few times and 
rounded up in front of him with equally as 
pretty a young lady as he had, and from Brook- 
lyn; so she said. Neither of the girls knew each 
other and neither of us boys knew the girls. 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 133 

I soon fixed that. I introduced my girl to 
Chink-eye and his girl as Miss Jollie of 
Brooklyn. Chink-eye then introduced his girl 
to me and my girl as Miss Hannah of New 
York. That name seemed very familiar to me 
as 1 had heard it quite often back in Ohio. 
Well, it was Jollie and Hannah all the way 
to New Haven. When about half way a light 
breeze came up and wafted our little canoe 
round about face a few times, then it wasn't 
so jolly. For Chink-eye's girl sickened with 
her load of luxuries. My lady also became a 
little squamish. We left them in their em- 
barrassment and moved down to the bar. 
You all know what and where that is on a 
boat. We took a big snifter of something 
that went down like a lot of nails. We were 
then ready to return to our ladies. And on 
our return to them the mark of Chink-eye's 
money lay there before his girl on the carpet. 
I sized up the pile, then said, *'We are not 
nearing the Bermuda Islands, are we. Chink- 
eye?" 

"I think not," said he, **Not if the Captain 
understands his business." 

''Why do you ask that question?" 

''Oh, I just thought I saw traces of onion 
tops with your girl's pile of relief." 

"Now, Frejolity, don't make fun of that 
little innocent girl, she has done well." 



1S4 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

"You know 1 told you, Chink-eye, that 
you should let up on that fill in when you 
and your lady were making that rush for those 
bananas, but you would not. Hello, what 
does that mean, the boat whistle is blowing, 
let's look, say Chink-eye, we are nearing the 
city of New Haven, and can't be bothered 
with those girls. We came down here for a 
time. Let's keep our distance from them, can 
see them again on our return to New York." 

"Alright, begosh," said Chink. "That will 
just suit me nicely." 

We left the boat and soon disappeared from 
their sight. Our vessel was due to start back 
on the following day at 2 P. M. We put in 
a part of that Sunday parading around the city, 
and the other part with a jolly set of white 
barbers in a game of craps. The game broke 
up at 1 130 A. M. 1 came out winner just 
$8.00, Chink-eye losing some $14.00. We 
then hustled off to a hotel, leaving orders 
with the night clerk to call us at 8:30. He 
did his part but we did not get up at his 
call and missed our breakfast; so we went to 
a Restaurant for that, after which we had a 
few games of billiards and at the same time 
drew the smoke through k^ Havana filler. 

The time was fast approaching for our boat 
to leave. We took a drink of Sherry wine 
and another cigar, then started for the dock. 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 135 

Had not gone more than one square and we 
saw to our surprise, /oilie and Hannah com- 
ing our way. I did nbt care for their company 
back and told Chink-iye so. 

"What kind of an excuse can we make?" 
said Chink-eye. 

"I don't know," said I. "They are now so 
near us that its too late to even think or try to 
crawfish. If they stop, we will make the 
best out of it that we can." They, of course, 
stopped and told us what a fine visit they 
had with their grandfathers, their cousins and 
aunts. We bowed our prettiest, smiled our 
sweetest, and rubbed our hands just like^you 
have oftentimes seen business men do with 
a customer, when they did not mean it at all. 
Its the big old dollar that makes the business 
man smile and rub his hands. Anyway, we 
must show ourselves as gentlemen, even if we 
did want to rid ourselves of their company. 
They finally finished the big end of their 
chatter and our quartet moved down street, 
and came to a market where fish were being 
sold. A well dressed lady was making the 
purchase of quite a large white fish from a 
man, I suppose, fifty years of age. It was one 
of the finest looking fish that I ever saw. AH 
four of us wishing to see the water specie, 
lined up in front of that market. As we did 
this I thought to myself, we will just have a 



136 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

little fun before we leave the city of New 
Haven. So 1 stepped up to the lady purchaser 
and said, "Missus, you will excuse me, please, 
but I have traveled over Europe, Asia, Africa 
and the Holy Lands, 1 have viewed the Pyr- 
amids, sailed on the Nile, and fished in the 
Tiber, permit me to offer you a word of ad- 
vice, don't cook that fish with the scales on 
it." 

"I don't mean to sir," she indignantly re- 
plied. 

Just then my girl punched me in the ribs 
with her umbrella, and said, "Come, Frejolity, 
let's be going." Chink-eye was in the height 
of his glory and gave me the wink for some 
more of that same material. I then said: 

"Very well, Missus, but I have crossed the 
Atlantic Ocean fourteen times, ascended the 
Andes, sailed up the Missouri and down the 
Mississippi, tramped it across the Great Sahara 
Desert, let me say one word more, cut the 
head off of that fish before you cook it." 

"You don't think 1 am a heathen," she re- 
torted. "I guess 1 know how to cook a fish." 

The girls by that time had gotten very un- 
easy, and begged of me to go. But 1 said to 
them, "Just wait one little minute yet, then 
we will be off." But no more waiting with 
them, oh, no, they had stood it until their 
patience had become a burden to them, and 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 137 

away they went. Chink-eye had both of his 
hands pushed down into his pants pockets 
and squirming like a fish-worm. I said to 
him, "What's the matter Chink-eye, have you 
got the colic?" 

**Not any colic, Mr. Frejolity, just speel 
away, you are the first barber orator that I 
have ever heard. I am only a little tea-kettled." 

I then said to the lady, **I beg pardon. 
Missus, but I have soldiered for Queen Vic- 
toria, fought for Uncle Sam, drawn a pension, 
kept a post-office, learned to fiddle and was 
never sued in my life, let me advise you not 
to eat the bones of that fish. Some folks eat 
the bones, but sooner or later come to some 
disputable end." 

"I will thank you to mind your own bus- 
iness," said she, as she picked up the fish to 

go- 

**Lady," said I, **I have traveled over the 
smooth prairies with the greatest politeness, 
climbed the Rocky Mountains, killed Indians, 
fought grizzlies, suffered, starved and perished, 
I now leave you with the kindest and most 
earnest wishes for your future welfare; so, be- 
fore leaving you, I would suggest that you 
cut off the tail of that fish before cooking." 

"By that time the old fish-man had an at- 
tack of insanity and was going to trounce me. 
I objected, and a crowd was fast gathering 



138 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

around us. In some way Chink-eye discov- 
ered a cop coming, and whispered in my ear, 
"Say, Frejolity, here comes an Irishman." I 
knew the rest. We must make good time 
for our boat was almost due to leave. We 
took the middle of the street, not being so 
liable to run up against the moving humanity. 
Of course, it would not have made much 
difference if we had run over a few of the 
old Gray horses, as we might be considered 
half brothers to those that have made the turn, 
and at that stage of their life they are tougher 
than an oak knot. Chink-eye was in the lead, 
and when about thirty yards from the boat, 
we saw the gang plank had been pulled in, 
the vessel was moving, and was out some 
seven or eight feet from the water's edge. 
The excursionists saw us coming, and you all 
know how a crowd of people usually squall 
on an occasion of that kind. I was deter- 
mined, and holloed to Chink-eye to make the 
leap. He did so, and landed all O. K. I 
missed it by over a foot and down I went. 
There must have been a terrible suction of 
some kind down below, for I went around a 
few times like a fly-wheel on an engine. All 
of a sudden it loosened, and up I came with- 
in arm's reach of the vessel. Chink-eye was 
equal to the occasion, for he caught me by 
the coat-tail and with other assistance pulled 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 139 

me in. Took me to a state room and put me 
to bed. He then squeezed out and dried my 
breeches, and I went back into those same 
breeches in less than two hours' time. Did 
not feel so very bad over my ducking, but 
would rather not have taken so much of that 
salt water into my stomach. 1 thought of 
that white fish and of the salty codfish, then 
forced a couple of big brandies down my neck, 
and once more felt like the same Azariah 
Frejolity. Chink-eye never forgot the fish 
scene in New Haven, the expression of that 
lady's countenance, and the big swelled up 
red faced fish-man. And that scene never will 
be forgotten by me. Neither will the punish- 
ment that I received in return for that fish act 
in the way of a salt water bath. We ridded 
ourselves of the girls all right on land, but they 
seemed to scent our tracks on the vessel. 
And on passing us for the third time. Miss 
jollie said to her partner loud enough that 
we might hear it, '* Our Sunday-School teacher 
over in Brooklyn tells us that cleanliness is 
next to Godliness." I saw the point, she was 
giving it to me over my salt water ducking. 
I smiled and replied, "Say, my little woonsey 
toonsey, did I understand you to say that 
Timothy was operating a bath-house up along 
the Yucon River?" 

"No, Mr. Frejohty, I said nothing of that 



140 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

sort. I can't understand what you are giving 
me. Won't you please explain about that 
Yucon River and that man Timothy?" 

"Miss Jollie," said I, "The Yucon River is 
away, way up in Alaska. You know where 
Fort Yucon is?" 

"No, indeed," said she, " That's beyond my 
education." 

"Well, that's up there too," said 1. She 
was warming up around the collar, but I con- 
tinued, "I will have to guess at it a httle 
when 1 explain to you the relationship between 
Alaska, Fort Yucon and the Yucon River to 
Timothy. 1 think that Timothy is the father 
of Alaska, that Alaska is a grandfather of Fort 
Yucon, and a great-great-grandfather of the 
Yucon River." At that she gave me another 
punch in the ribs with that same umbrella. 
She seemed to have it in for my ribs. Chink- 
eye fell back on a tete with side-splitting 
laughter, and the girls left us for keeps. Just 
then the boat whistle sounded the signal that 
we had or would, very soon arrive at our 
landing. On leaving the boat we saluted the 
ladies for the last time. As my time in New 
York was fast passing away and 1 did not 
think a man with as much sense as a skinned 
rabbit should gain the affections of a young 
lady, then turn on a cold wave. We boarded 
a street car, rode a few squares together then 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 141 

parted, both of us feeling amply rewarded for 
our time and money. On Tuesday morning 
we met at the shop with smiles on our faces, 
and the lathering of mugs began again. And 
while shaving those mugs my thoughts became 
saddened, and remained saddened the balance 
of that day; knowing that in two weeks more 
I would be off for Boston, and that I did not 
care to leave New York. For I do not think 
there stands in this world a city that is as 
sporty and moneyfied as that metropolis. I 
found a buyer for my shop at the same price 
that I paid, but would not sell. The trade 
had increased to a paying investment, and I 
must have, at least, $1000.00. Finally, one 
day there was a well dressed gentleman came 
into the shop for a shave. I caught him on 
purpose, thinking he might be of the same 
profession that I was. You know barbers can 
very nearly tell a brother when he steps in 
the shop. During our conversation I found his 
name to be Frank Bender, a barber from Cleve- 
land, O., and that he was looking up a shop 
in the city. I told him that I would sell my 
place on the coming Saturday night, handed 
him my book of receipts, so that he might 
see my daily and yearly income, and that the 
shop was before him to investigate at any 
time. My price for the same was $1000.00. 
This was on Tuesday, and on Thursday of 



142 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

of the same week he made the purchase. On 
Saturday at 12 M. I handed the key over to 
Mr. Bender. 

I made arrangements for us barbers to meet 
in the shop on Sunday afternoon at 2 P. M., 
that it would be our last opportunity of meet- 
ing together as I would be off for Boston 
early Monday morning. 1 did not sleep well 
that night, thinking, perhaps, 1 had made the 
one mistake of my life by selling out a good 
thing. But I had my mind fixed on Hon- 
duras, Central America, and there 1 would go 
if I lost all of my ten years' savings. We all 
met at the shop as was arranged, and had our 
last round of pleasure in the way of cracking 
a few bottles of champaign, a few jokes and a 
little of the old game called Euchre. The 
Euchre, of course, was just for pastime. 1 
never played cards for money, and hope that I 
never will. The boys tired and left the shop; 
while Mr. Bender and I remained to have a 
little chat in private, which went like this: 

"Mr. Bender," said 1, "as we are left here 
all alone, I will put you on your guard here 
in this your strange shop and strange people. 
You will find men in New York, as, I sup- 
pose, you have in the city of Cleveland, that 
have no more regard for a barber than they 
would for a rag picker or a roust-about in a 
livery stable. These men will step into this 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 143 

shop, take your chair, and order what they 
call a ten cent hair trim. I never learned 
what a ten cent hair trim was, neither do I 
care to, as 1 think too much of my profession 
for that. Anyway, they try their best to get 
any and all extras that they can free of charge, 
and nine times out of ten these same men 
on leaving the shop will step into the first 
saloon they come to and spend from fifty to 
one hundred cents for drinks over the bar. 
Perhaps lose the same amount in some slot 
machine and think nothing of it. Now, Mr. 
Mr. Bender, I'll tell you a little more before 
we part. A part of my trade at this shop 
has been trained to an easy and clean shave; 
in other words, just with the grain. No pet 
business goes with them nor with us. They 
are also in the habit of paying for all extras 
that they may order, and if you vary from 
this way of doing business you will be the 
loser almost your expenses outside of your 
shop hire. Don't give them the chance to 
take advantage of your labor. I lost some 
trade in this training, but the majority of 
them were cranks and swell-heads. It did 
not make any difference with me, for I felt 
that for each one of that kind of customers 
that left us, two others would take their 
place. And that some of the strays would 
come sneaking back and take their medicine 



144 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

like little men. They'll conclude that it isn't 
so pleasant to have their whiskers pulled out, 
and off, at some scab shop. Too many ex- 
tras free of charge and cut prices means soup. 
When it comes to that, ! for one am ready 
to eat grass." 

"Well, Mr. Frejolity," said he, "I must 
confess that I have not worked as a journey- 
man barber in one shop of that kind, neither 
have 1 operated such, and am sure that I will 
be very happy to conduct the business of this 
shop on that same line." 

"I hope so, Mr. Bender, and that you will 
never give in to the giving away of your time; 
for time is money. And now, Mr. Bender, as 
the shades of night are fast approaching, I'll 
be going, wishing you health and prosperity 
I bid you good-bye." 

I went home and retired early, for I was to 
leave the city on the 8:30 train. Chink-eye 
met me at the depot, and would not have it 
any other way than that 1 buy a small shop 
in Boston, to not pay over $500.00 for it, and 
at the expiration of my year he would pur- 
chase it of me at a profit in my favor of $200. 
"Alright Chink-eye, I'll do it. You could 
have had the New York shop at cost, but 
you know you were troubled with the shorts. 
In just one year from now I'll be sailing over 
the Atlantic Ocean for Honduras, Central 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 145 

America; and to do that I must have money. 
You know its too far to swim." 

"Yep," said Chink-eye with a smile, '*and 
then, Mr. Frejolity, I think you would have a 
more difllcult time of that swim than you had 
the time you took the salt water bath at New 
Haven." 

'*! presume so, Chink-eye, but let that be 
as it may, we will ever remember each other 
by the happy times we have had together. 
And, now, old boy, here comes that iron ma- 
chine that takes me to Boston. I'll again take 
you by the hand and say good-bye. Chink- 
eye, may you live long and prosper. I'll write 
or telegraph you in the near future." 



10 



CHAPTER X. 

As the train was speeding its way into 
Boston, I realized to a certainty that my time 
in the States was rapidly passing away, and 
that my last year of barbering would come to a 
close in that city, for at least a time, and that 
that time might be forever; for I was be- 
coming so uneasy and dissatisfied with the 
business. If it had not been for the large 
amount of gratis work and kicking in barber- 
ing, I would have continued to push and pull 
the tally-ho and Heinisch razors for at least a 
few years longer, or until I would have sus- 
pected the turning point from a barber to an 
Old Gray horse. I think that would stop me 
deader than father's old wall clock. Anyhow, 
I would not care to change my diet from 
spring chicken and porter-house steak to corn 
and hay. That would have been still worse 
than the miserable growlers and kickers. 
When our train whistled for the "Hub" and 
stopped, I was, of course, anxious to step off 
on jack-wax soil. And in so doing I ran a 
nail through the sole of my right shoe into 
the ball of my foot, which laid me up for one 
week. 1 tied swine rind on that nail hole 

147 



148 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

for three days, then it began to recover. In 
three more days Frejolity could be seen wend- 
ing his way to and from his daily labor. I 
found a first class boarding-house well up in 
the city, and rather a cleanly little three chaired 
shop to work in at a salary of $12.00 per 
week. I had been with Mr. Snyder, as that 
was his name, just one month. His trade 
was fair, and shop so located that it could be 
made a pippin by all hands doing easy and 
clean work. And 1 made him an offer of 
$500 spot cash for it. He hesitated at first, 
but finally said he would take $600. " Its 
mine," said I, and immediately wired for 
Chink-eye. On the following week he arrived, 
feeling as gay and happy as a blue-jay. And 
there once more mingled together a pair of 
happy barbers. I put Chink-eye on the first 
chair, for he could not be beat on easy shav- 
ing, and the second chair was operated by the 
same man that had been there for the past 
ten months. Mr. Adams was his name and 
from Buffalo, N. Y., while I worked at the 
third and last chair. All three of us were 
single men and were at liberty to go in turns 
and do as we pleased. That is, within the 
bounds of the law; and otherwise than the 
law where we might have a little fun and at 
the same time make our escape from that 
same fun without being arrested. On Thurs- 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 149 

day morning we were all three sitting in the 
shop with nothing to do, in came one of our 
customers a very large man and by the way 
an undertaker. He was after a barber to go 
out one mile from the city to shave an old 
gentleman that had died sometime during the 
early morning. "Who will go?" said I. 

*' Let's draw cuts," said Chink-eye. 

"Alright," said Adams. 

We drew and the job fell to my lot. I did 
not know the corpse or his friends, but had 
a guarantee from the undertaker for my pay, 
which was $5.00, and he to take me out and 
back. He took me out, but I ran, walked, 
and landed at the shop on a street car. Will 
tell you how it was: 1 had never shaved but 
one dead man during my barbering experience, 
and it made me feel a little whe-wha and 
creepy up and down my spinal column. 
When we arrived at the house the supposed 
dead man was lying on the flat of his back 
on the front side of the bed, and on a set of 
very springy springs. When I had him nicely 
lathered, I stropped my razor and took what 
I supposed the easiest way for me to operate, 
which was on the edge of the bed just in front 
of the corpse. In doing that, the springs sank 
so low that it overbalanced me and the corpse, 
and we both went to the floor, I underneath 
and the corpse on top. 1 was greatly fright- 



160 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

ened and soon rid myself of him and made a 
rush for the door. When out, the first thing I 
saw was that big fat undertaker running as if 
there had been some murder committed, and 
not much of a run at that. A sort of widdlety 
waddlety style. I was going in the same direc- 
tion and in passing him I yelled, " Hustle up, 
fatty, he is coming with a knife." And that, 
undertaker almost winded, squalled out **For 
heavens sake, Frejolity, get there, I can't." I 
expect I made one of the swiftest records go- 
ing across that meadow of any in all my run- 
ning experience. 1 looked back once to see if 
the corpse was actually coming, and could see 
nothing of either the corpse or the undertaker. 
I thought, perhaps, the corpse had eaten him 
up. At the house it seemed all hustle and bus- 
tle. A woman with a large white rag waved 
me onward, and onward I went. On reaching 
the road I had yet one mile to the city. That 
road was quite muddy and so was I. When 
I reached the street car line I was perspiring 
like a rail splitter. That made no difference 
to me, the first car that went my way 1 went 
with it. On entering the shop Chink-eye 
looked at me and smiled but said nothing, for, 
1 suppose one-half an hour; then he said, 
"How did you succeed in shaving the dead 
man, Mr. Frejolity?" I did not want to tell 
him the true circumstances of the case, for, I 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 151 

well knew that I would never hear the last of 
it, so 1 said, "Oh fine, fine, Mr. Chink-eye, I 
think about the nicest piece of architectural 
drawing of the whiskers that 1 ever did. But 
I'll tell you Chink-eye, a barber surely earns 
his five dollars, don't you think?" 

"Well, yes, Frejolity, in some cases I think 
they do. And by the looks of your wardrobe 
you have surely earned a couple of fives. 
You must have run up against something, for 
you look ten years older than you did this 
morning. Did the corpse get the scare on 
you?" 

"Nary a scare, Mr. Chink-eye, did you ever 
see me anything than a brave man ? " Just 
then that big fat undertaker drove up in front 
of the shop. 1 went out to see what he 
wanted, and when I stepped up to his buggy 
he said, "Say, Frejolity, do you expect me to 
bring that corpse up here to your shop to 
have him shaved ? " 

" Yes, Mr. Undertaker, bring on your corpse, 
but you will find him the liveliest dead man 
you ever handled. Where in heaven's name 
did you get to so quick after 1 passed you ? " 

"By thunder, Frejolity, 1 plunged head first 
into an old well. You see the grass was 
quite long and 1 caught my foot in a clump 
of that stuff that the farmers call hay, and 
you know the rest." 



152 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

"Ha, ha, and how did you get out of that 
well ? " 

"Oh, it was shallow, it had been filled up 
with old rubbish to within a few feet of the 
top of the ground." 

"I suppose you laid there like a possum 
and waited for my assistance to help you 
out." 

"Oh, no, Mr. Frejolity, I was able to craw- 
fish it out after I had caught my second wind, 
and I now come to you the second and last 
time to go with me and shave that corpse." 

"I'll go, Mr. Undertaker, on these condi- 
tions: that he must sit up in a rocking chair 
and you hold his hands so that he may not 
do me any violence while 1 am operating. 
Look here at my throat, its all scratched up 
where he had me." 

"Now, Frejolity, what's the matter with 
you? That man is dead. What did you do 
to loosen his grasp of your throat.?" 

"Well, Mr. Undertaker, I think 1 did a great 
plenty. You see, he was laying on top of me 
and you had stepped out; and to do the bus- 
iness up quickly I gave him a couple of my 
pugilistic cuts on his smeller. Say, you should 
have seen the lather fly. He gave a groan, 
rolled from his perch and 1 made a rush for 
the door. Did you go back to the house after 
you had crabbed it out of that old well hole?" 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 153 

" Oh, my no, after I reached the team out 
at the roadside I thought I had better come to 
the city and see what you were doing." 

"Well, Mr. Undertaker, or Savers, don't 
never worry about Azariah Frejolity; I left my 
southern California home about ten years ago, 
have mingled with all sizes and classes of 
humanity ever since, and as yet, I have the 
first time to get caught on a fair chase. Its 
no fair show where they nab a man as they 
pass out of the door; that's the way that big 
Irishman caught me in Cincinnati when I had 
my trouble with that corn-husker barber." I 
left Mr. Savers and had backed out on re- 
turning to the country to shave that dead 
man, and found out later on how he came 
out with that live corpse. Anyhow, I'll bet 
that corpse had at least one black eye, for 
whenever I hit a man I usually use all the 
surplus strength that I have left of my scare. 
The undertaker quit shaving with me after 
that for four or five months, then returned with 
a big fat smile on his big fat face. I showed 
him my friendship by my cordial greeting, 
and when in the act of shaving him I remarked, 
"Say, Mr. Undertaker, I suppose the little 
calamity we had out on the farm that time 
still lingers sweetly in your memory, does it 
not?" 

"Yes, sir, Mr. Frejolity, now and forever." 



154 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

''Then you still remember the sensational 
newspaper headlines on the following morning 
concerning the dead man?" 

"Just slightly, Mr. Frejolity, just slightly. 
You see I was a victim of nervous prostration 
after that, and lay in a sort of a swoon for 
two or three days. 1 remember that my wife 
sat by my bedside with a newspaper in one 
hand reading to m^e of the affair, and a large 
palm-leaf fan in the other chasing off the flies. 
You know it was in fly time, and they were 
ram-pat after my carcass." 

"Yes, Mr. Savers, 1 remember distinctly, 
it was fly time with me in crossing that 
meadow, and it seemed that everything in 
and around Boston was fly time from the 
smallest insect up to the big fat woman in the 
side show. 1 also read in the paper that the 
old man out there on the farm was very much 
alive. Did you return to finish up that job?" 

"I did, Mr. Frejolity, and found him sitting 
up in an old-fashioned rocking chair eating 
milk toast." 

"Did you notice marks of any kind on his 
face?" 

" Well, yes, Frejolity, his left eye was very 
badly swollen and considerably blackened up." 

"What did he have to say, Mr. Savers?" 

"Oh, I don't know. I didn't wait to see. 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 155 

You see, he came after me on sight, and had 
it not been for his dear old wife detaining 
him, I suppose this soul of mine would now 
be in the hands of God who gave it." Many 
times we talked and laughed over that dead 
farmer, and Mr. Savers remained my customer 
and friend up to the time I left Boston. But 
I never received one cent of pay for my time, 
trouble and expense in going to shave that 
dead farmer. Chink-eye of course knew all 
about it and was wild with joy. One day I 
said to him, "Now, Chink-eye, I have owned 
this shop just eight months. I paid six^hundred 
dollars for it and its a good investment. If 
you will close that hole in your face concern- 
ing the dead farmer, I'll let you have this shop 
now instead of your waiting until my year 
has drawn to a close, and at less than seven 
hundred dollars." 

**How much less?" said Chink-eye. 

"Oh, fifty, anyhow." 

" I'll do it, Frejolity, I'll do it. Your money 
will be ready for you immediately after dinner, 
but you must promise to stay with me the re- 
maining four months at one dollar more on 
the week than you are paying me; will you 
promise?" 

"I will, Chink-eye, and though your sins be 
as scarlet they may be washed whiter than 
snow." 



156 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

*' Gee whiz, Frejolity, but you are getting 
religious. Where did you learn that?" 

"Oh, back in Washington, D. C. 1 was a 
good little boy back there, you know." 

'*Ah there, say Chink-eye, look, quick, see 
that pair of old Grays going yonder; if they 
return this way let's have some fun ? " 

** Alright," said Chink-eye, "but don't go 
after them too hard, for we want no trouble 
out of this Gray horse business. You know 
we have had in the past a great deal of fun 
out of the old cribbers, and its about time to 
give them a rest. 1 wonder what can be the 
matter with my stomach. A continual grind- 
ing and aching sensation." 

"It may be, Chink-eye, that you are going 
to hand in your checks. You had better see 
a doctor, perhaps its lint in your stomach. If 
its that, its not a very serious affair." 

"Lint in my stomach," said Chink-eye. 
" That's the first time I ever heard of that 
disease." 

"Well, Chink-eye, 1 have seen a great 
many cases of it in my time, but I never con- 
sidered it dangerous." 

"Say, Frejolity, what causes the lint to 
accumulate, anyhow?" 

"Oh, I don't know, but suppose its from 
chewing the rag." 

"Say, Mr. Frejolity, you are getting won- 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 157 

derfully sharp, you must have swallowed one 
of your tally-hoes last night, anyhow, its on 
me, let's go have something." If the old 
Grays returned our way we did not see them 
as we were at that time having a tea social. 
When we had all the tea that we cared for, 
Chink-eye returned to the shop while I interested 
myself strolling leisurely around the city. As 
I came up in front of a large plumbing estab- 
lishment 1 saw hitched to a spring wagon and 
tied to a post an old Gray horse. I stepped 
up to him and said, "Hello there, Charley 
horse, what are you doing to that post.^ 
Are you troubled with asthma and trying to 
get your breath?" 

"Not an asthma," said he. I then pulled 
a pint flask out of my pocket and said, "Here 
Charley, have a drink of John Barley Corn, 
and not so much cribbing." 1 uncorked it, 
held it to his lips, and the old turn drank the 
whole squeeze. I then said, "Say, Charley 
horse, you still like a little nip out of the bot- 
tle don't you.^" 

"I should say I do, its the staff of life," 
said he, 

"I say, Charley horse, how long has it been 
since you made the turn?" 

"Oh, let's see, 1 think in 1891." 

" I suppose you were shaving at that time, 
were you not ? " 



158 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

"Yes, I was then in St. Louis." 

''By the way, Charley, since you mentioned 
St. Louis, did you ever know a barber there 
by the name of Shorty ? " 

"I should say I did. His home was at 
Omaha, Nebraska, and was killed by a falling 
circus tent-pole." 

" Do you remember the barber's name that 
was with him at that circus ? " 

"Let me see," said Charley, "1 think his 
name was Frejolity, and from San Francisco." 

"Correct you are, Charley horse, and you 
are now talking with that same Azariah Fre- 
jolity!" Say, you should have heard that 
horse laugh. It pleased me to see him so 
happy, but oh, that miserable change. "Now, 
Charley, did the change come on you rather 
suddenly?" 

"Oh, my, I should say so. I went to bed 
at 9:30 feeling as well as usual, and when I 
awoke in the morning I found the bed had 
broken down sometime during the night (by 
my improved weight I suppose), and there I 
lay all mixed up with bed slats and clothing. 
My nose itched, I tried to relieve it, and I 
then discovered that 1 had made the turn from a 
barber to an old Gray horse. And the scratchers 
that I used to use to relieve all itchings had 
turned into horse hoofs and my arms and legs 
into horse legs. I felt Hke doing something 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 159 

desperate and commenced to kick myself loose 
from my entanglement. I had just raised to my 
feet when the landlady came rushing in to see 
what all that noise meant. When she saw a 
horse standing there, the door went shut like 
a rat-trap,, and with a squall that raised the 
whole push. The first man on the scene 
was the husband of that squaller, and of course 
she returned with him. The first thing he 
did was to yell for his wife to open the door 
that led out into the kitchen; then he said to 
me, ' now you old Peter Funk Reprobate, out 
of this room at once or I'll shoot you down 
like a dog. Where did you come from and 
where are you going.?' I felt mad at his 
abuse and made a fierce kick at the rear end 
of the bed, knocking out a thin piece of board, 
and that same piece of board striking the old 
gal in the stomach, doubling her up like a 
jack-knife. Then the old man hustled for his 
little gun and 1 hustled out through the kitchen 
demoralizing everything as I went. As a last 
morsel I grabbed between my teeth a large 
piece of beefsteak that lay on a platter ready 
to serve up to the boarders and out through 
the lot I went. I ran over the yard-man and 
just reached the alley when two loads of shot 
struck me in the rear. I held to my beefsteak 
and went for the prairie, an old Gray horse. 
In a few days I was eating grass with a herd 



160 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

of wild ponies, and in few more days some 
lassoers came along and caught the whole 
push. We were taken to St. Louis and 
shipped from there to Pittsburgh. There a 
part of the push were sold and the balance 
shipped on to this city. And here 1 am." Just 
then out came the owner of Charley horse 
and drove him away, 1 suppose for his even- 
ing corn and hay; while I went to my board- 
ing-house for the evening's porter-house. The 
last few weeks in that shop seemed an awful 
drag to me, I wanted to go some place but 
did not know where. Presently there was 
a real country lad came into the shop for a 
hair cut. "All right my boy," 1 said, ''just 
take this chair." He did so, and in our con- 
versation 1 found that he lived about four miles 
from the outskirts of the city. That it was 
the last day of school in their district and that 
it was to wind up with a glorious old-fash- 
ioned school exhibition in the evening. The 
lad told me the proper road to take out of the 
city, and also, that he, Joseph Stubbs, was to 
be the leading orator on that occasion. After 
the lad had left the shop, 1 told Chink-eye 
what a great graft 1 had in store for that evening, 
and that he go with me, as we might both 
have the same amount of fun for about the 
same amount of money. That we would be 
sure to catch on to a couple of sweet little 



I 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 161 

country gals. I did not ask Chink-eye the second 
time, for it seemed as though he had lost part 
of his marbles. And in his excitement he 
cut a small slice out of the man's chin he 
was shaving. I thought it would surely end 
in a fight, but that yellow streak said no. So 
at 6 P. M. we took a car out to its limit, then 
hired a horse and buggy from a teamster pay- 
ing him $3.00 for its use, and a deposit with 
him of $100.00 for its safe return. All ready 
boys, and away we went. The exercises 
were to begin promptly at 8 o'clock and we 
reached the spot at 7:30; so it gave us about 
one-half an hour to get a seat. The crowd 
was packed in that little schoolhouse like a 
cream cheese in its case. But we pushed 
down through the center aisle, came to where 
there was a couple of awfully pretty and nicely 
dressed ladies sitting with a sort of a clod- 
hopper of a boy on either side of them. We, 
of course, wanted to sit down, and right by 
those ladies was our choice. Now, how 
to rid the seat of those boys we did not 
know. A happy thought struck me that all 
boys like money, and I whispered to Chink- 
eye that we offer the lads one dollar each for 
their seats. *'A11 right, Frejolity," said Chink- 
eye. **ril give two dollars rather than miss 
it." I proposed the exchange to them, held 
out our dollars and they grabbed them like a 



162 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

cat would a rat. I thought to myself, "we are 
the people." There was a real whispering 
match took place with the gappers and goppers 
from all parts of the house, but what did we 
care, we had come to stay. Time was called 
for the exercises to begin. A little bell rang, 
back went the curtain on a wire, and there 
stood before us about thirty people. They 
opened up the entertainment with the song 
"America," which was well delivered. You 
know that song never gets stale if butchered 
into mince-meat. The teacher then came out 
and said, "Master Joseph Stubbs will now 
give you Fitz Halleck Green's * Ode to Marco 
Bozzaris.'" When Joseph stepped out on the 
stage, I saw he was the same lad that had 
his hair cut and told me of the entertainment. 
The girls said h,e was the leading orator of 
the school because he had licked every boy 
in his class. I will now give you a little de- 
scription of Joseph and his struggle with the 
** Ode to Marco Bozarris." Joe Stubbs, long, lean, 
and of the tender age of about fifteen years, 
shot out on the stage and looked solemn and 
cross-eyed. His arms hung down like a couple 
of ropes on either side of a hitching-p^ost, 
and his cow-hides covered about one-third of 
the stage. The parents and guardians that 
had assembled to witness the exhibition ap- 
plauded vociferously. Presently, Joe Stubbs 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 163 

slung one arm straight out and as stiff as a 
pump-handle; dropped his lower jaw into his 
half-yard of limp shirt collar and began his 
little pumping, lifting his arm up and down 
at every time he spoke. 1 will never forget 
the verse and its wind-up; it went like this: 

**At midnight in his guarded tent, 
The Turk lay, dreaming of the hour. 

When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, 
Should humble at his power. 

In his dreams he bore — he bore — he bore — " 

There he stuck, rolled his eyes heavenward, 
shifted his weight from one foot to the other 
and trembling like the lower lip of a sick colt. 
In the meantime the school teacher had lost 
the place and mislaid his spectacles, 

"He bore — he bore " 



said Joseph. I just could not stand it any 
longer, so I rose to my feet and yelled out, 
"Never mind the bore, Joseph, call it a hog 
and go on." The hurrah reminded me once 
more of the Chicago Board of Trade, and that 
boxing contest at Baltimore, Md. Chink-eye 
was all doubled up with laughter, and the lit- 
tle lady by my side seemingly had her whole 
hand in her mouth. Chink-eye's girl had swal- 
lowed her handkerchief all but a little tip that 



164 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

showed up without. I thought she was dying, 
her eyes were rolled back and she looked al- 
most ready to collapse. I said, "Say Chink- 
eye, help the lady." At that he jerked the 
kerchief from its hiding by its tip end. The 
ladies seemed a little mad at me for interfering 
with Sir Joseph Stubbs, but I fed them up on 
cream chocolates and they were soon all right. 
The entertainment lasted until io:^o P. M. 
The girls happened to be sisters and came 
there with their brother. But we four, as 
they were going our way, stepped on board of 
our vehicle. It seemed a little crowded but 
we did not care for that, as such occasions did 
not present themselves to barbers very often. 
When we left the schoolhouse there was a brisk 
wind blowing; it was very cloudy, and just two 
miles our way to where the ladies lived. By 
the way, their names were Glenn and Fairy Hol- 
cumb. We were yet one-half mile from their 
home when the rain began to fall. The wind 
grew fierce, and it was a good thing for me 
that there was not much thunder and light- 
ning mixed in with that wind, for it saved me an 
awful sight of embarrassment and a great big 
scare. Presently, off went our buggy top, but 
that did not check our speed and onward we 
went all huddled together like a nest of young 
robins. I was driving and never once thought of 
weakening. Chink-eye felt a little shaky. The 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 165 

girls were grit from start to finish ; guess 
they had been out in that kind of a parade 
before. I did not ask them but thought if 
they had they had beat my time. Well, we 
at last reached the good Samaritan Inn, and 
in four objects of pity went. The old peo- 
ple, of course, were as parents usually are, 
anxious as to their daughters' safety and re- 
mained up for their return. Don't think for 
one minute that Chink-eye and I entered Mr. 
and Mrs. Holcumb's threshold without an in- 
vitation. Oh, no, nothing would do but that 
we go in, until the storm had subsided. That 
was something Chink-eye and Frejolity were 
never guilty of, waitingfor the second invitation. 
We were very cordially greeted by the father 
and mother. The girls excused themselves 
to change their wardrobes, and we did like- 
wise. Say, it was laughable. Chink-eye put 
on a suit that belonged to the girls' brother. 
The pants fitted him like the skin on a sau- 
sage, too short at both ends and too nar- 
row in the middle. 

I was favored with a suit of Mr. Holcumb's, 
and his trousers looked, when on me, like a 
bursted balloon. When all was ready, we 
again entered Mr. and Mrs. Holcumb's beau- 
tiful parlor, and in distress both times; and 
left Mr. and Mrs. Holcumb's home in distress; 
of which I will explain later on. I thought of 



166 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

a distress sign, but that did us no good, as 
there were no brothers present. Our embar- 
rassment was at fever heat, and to break that 
embarrassment in the presence of those ladies 
Chink-eye said, "It still rains, it must be one 
of our April showers." 

'*Yes," said I, "And I think its wending 
its way out into the month of May by the 
way its holding on." 

"A sort of a stayer," said Chink-eye. 
"Something like our protected trusts, don't 
you think ?" 

"Oh, yes," said 1, "Or on the order of a 
bull pup to a bone." We were having oceans 
of side-splitting fun over our wardrobes and 
the Joseph Stubb's poetry on Marco Bozarris 
when Mrs. Holcumb entered the room and in- 
vited us out to lunch, something very unex- 
pected to us, but we were never known to 
refuse the necessities of life; don't know about 
the ladies, but Chink-eye and myself were as 
hungry as a couple of cub bears. But out of 
respect for the ladies we would have devoured 
everything in sight on that table. Its a good 
thing I had on the old man's pants for they 
were cut full in the waist giving me a suffi- 
cient amount of room for hot and cold stor- 
age. Chink-eye's pants were just the reverse, 
and when through eating he looked hke a 
Lake Erie frog. At 2 A. M. our wardrobes 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 167 

were sufficiently dried for another change, and 
as we were marching back to the room to 
make that change, I thought to myself, if I 
could only wear the old man's pants back to 
the city how gladly 1 would do so; but hated 
like sin to make a proposition of that kind to 
him. Chink-eye made his change all right, as 
his pants were larger than the boy's while 
mine were smaller than the old man's. The 
result was, that the shrinkage of mine from 
that drenching rain and the hot and cold stor- 
age, made it impossible for me to wear them. 
Couldn't have pulled them together at the 
waist with a block and tackle. I sent word 
with Chink-eye for Mr. Holcumb to come to 
my room. He did so, and I explained to him 
about the shrinkage of my trousers and the 
extraordinary expansion caused from that ex- 
traordinary fill-in. He laughed quite heartily 
and said, "My boy, if you choose to do so 
you can wear those pants of mine to the city, 
and return them to me at your convenience." 
"I'll just do that Mr. Holcumb," and thanked 
him very kindly for the favor. I then returned 
to the room where Chink-eye and the two 
girls were. It stopped raining at 3 A. M. 
The clouds had become considerably broken 
and the moon was popping out some of its 
light over that bean soil. We thanked Mr. 
and Mrs. Holcumb, also the young ladies for 



168 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

their kindness toward us, and with the prom- 
ise, that if possible, I would return and pay 
them a last visit before I left for Truxillo, 
Honduras. I had lots of respect for Mr. and 
Mrs. Holcumb, but if I made another visit 
to their home it would be principally to see 
the young ladies. For either of them would 
be welcome to my scalp. Well, we started, 
and on reaching the road, I said, ''Say, Chink- 
eye, how about the buggy top. You know 
we have one hundred dollars at stake for the 
return of this horse and buggy, and it being 
topless that teamster might keep out our 
whole twist of green. As it is now, we will 
have to pay some damages for the broken 
top." 

"That's so," said Chink-eye, "and we can 
well afford to pay damages, for you know 
we have had a time that not many of the 
scrapers have had the pleasure of experien- 
cing." 

"Alright, Chink-eye, we will then return 
and get the top." We had no straps or strings 
with us with which to fasten that awkward 
piece of necessity on with, so just loaded it 
astride of the dash. And Chink-eye had plenty 
to do holding that same piece of necessity on 
board of our automobile until we reached the 
suburbs of the Hub City. When daylight came 
and we could gaze on our wardrobe and the 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 169 

mud that we had carried with us from the 
loading of that buggy top, made us feel like 
a three-cent piece. And when nearing the 
teamster's home Chink-eye remarked, that the 
bean soil of Massachusetts would surely make 
good fly paste with just a little boihng down, 
and that it might be a great hit for us if we 
would boil down a few hundred tons of it 
and sell to some fly-paper manufacturer. 

"Say, Chink-eye, you have a thoughtful 
head stuck on that neck of yours, and 1 will 
do the canning if you will furnish the cans 
and soil." At that saying we drove up in 
front of the gentleman's residence from whom 
we had hired our outfit. It was daylight, and 
there we sat looking between the ribs of that 
buggy top. "Boston quay," said 1. 

"That's what they'll say," said Chink-eye. 

"You call for the landlord," said I. 

"1 guess not," said Chink-eye, "1 am too 
busy holding on to this necessity." 

"Well, you are not holding it with your 
mouth are you?" 

"No," said he, "But there seems to be 
something sticking in my throat like a codfish 
ball, and causes a sort of impediment in my 
speech." 

"Oh pshaw, Chink-eye, you are the biggest 
piece of a coward that 1 ever knew." 

"And you are another," said he. 



170 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

"Well, I suppose I must call to him, sc 
here goes, 'Hello!' say, Chink-eye, what's his 
name ?" 

''I don't know, Mr. Frejolity, just call him 
Loucimicus Horse Fiddle Jackwax, or any old 
thing." 

"Say, Mr. Chink-eye, you are getting nut- 
tie." 

"And you're another nuttie," said he. 

"Say, Chink-eye, your mother was a shady 
lady." 

"And your mother as two shady ladies," 
said he. 

"Now Chink-eye, don't you call me shady 
or down goes your meat-house." 

"Well then, Mr. Frejolity, down will go 
two meat-houses." 

Tiring of chewing the rag, 1 said, "Chink- 
eye, you have entirely too much meat on that 
knot of yours." 

" You're another," said he. 

" All right," said 1. 

" Let her go," said he. 

"All right, again," said I. "Hey there, Mr. 
Loucimicus Horse Fiddle Jackwax, are you 
ready?" He heard my beautiful voice and out 
he came licking his chops I suppose from eat- 
ing good fat sausage and buckwheat cakes. 
He greeted us with a smile, and I said to him, 
"How do we seem to look?" 






WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 171 

**0h I don't know," said he. ** But what's 
the matter with the animal? His hair seems 
to be standing up hill." 

"Well, I'll tell you, Mr. — let's see. 1 have 
forgotten your name." 

** Grouse," said he. 

**0h yes, why am I so forgetful. Well, 
Mr. Grouse, it was rather up hill business with 
us, the horse and the automobile. 1 suppose 
the animal stood on his head some of the 
time and the water circulated in the wrong 
direction. Anyhow, how much do we owe 
you ?" 

He looked the wreck over and said, *'WeIl 
boys, 1 expect by your looks, you have been 
in tough luck. Give me $5.00 and I'll call it 
square." 

''All right, Mr. Grouse, here's your money; 
and if we ever come this way again and 
would rather ride than walk, you will favor 
us, won't you.?" 

"Yes, my boys, any time; I have been there 
myself, and know how it goes. And here is 
the one hundred dollars that you gave me as 
a guarantee for the return of my property." 
We took it, and bidding him good morning, 
went our way rejoicing, and it was but a few 
minutes until we caught a car to the city. 1 
felt awfully embarrassed over the looks of our 
clothing, as we resembled snipe hunters. 



172 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

Neither of us spoke for some little time, then 
Chink-eye said, "Say, Frejolity, suppose when 
you step off of this car you would meet that 
little anthem of yours, what would you do?" 

''Well, I don't just kn««>w, but think I^would 
stand pat. What would I need to care for a 
little mud. I haven't been as sweet on her as 
you think I have. You see, her old man 
thinks a barber is next to a baboon, and 1 
expect I will yet have trouble with that old 
slobber mouth." 

''Slobber mouth," said Chink-eye, "Why 
do you call him that.^" 

"Why, don't you remember that old feeler .? 
When I say feeler, 1 mean that long red tongue 
that he used to run out around the edges of 
his cavity to hunt up the hair stubs. You 
know he used to come into our shop to get 
shaved, and while operating on him there 
a slobber would occasionally trace its way 
down the corners, don't you remember.?" 

"Well, I should think I do. Is it pos- 
sible," said Chink-eye, "that that old dough- 
belly is your little anthem's father.?" 

"That's what, and he knows that 1 am a 
barber, and that 1 once tried to catch him on 
the end of that same feeler with the point of 
my tally-ho. You know he has not been 
coming to our shop for about three months." 

"That's right, Frejolity, and I expect it would 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 173 

be a good idea if you would make yourself 
scarce around his fireside when he is present, 
as he might do you bodily harm should he 
get hysterica." 

"I think myself that he would be a danger- 
ous old boliver to tackle. Hello, here we are, 
Chink-eye, let's get off this car, for we have 
been guyed by these passengers long enough. 
You can go your way, I'll go mine; we will 
meet at the shop I suppose, promiscuously." 

So we did; I was about one-half hour later 
than Chink-eye. Nine more days remained 
for me in the city of Boston, 1 would then 
sail for Truxillo, Honduras, Central America. 
And on the coming Sunday I must answer 
letters almost forgotten. I always was slow 
with my friends in that respect, but it seemed 
that I could not find the time. So it is, and 
so it always was. As 1 said before, I had 
but nine more days in the city. This was on 
Friday, and one week from the coming Mon- 
day 1 would be off. On Saturday night I told 
Chink-eye that if it would be all right with 
him I would loaf out the balance of my time 
in the city, and visit with my little anthem. 
And that sometime when he was going to 
the country he could return old farmer Hol- 
cumb's pants with my kindest regards to the 
old people and love to the daughters, and that 



174 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

at sometime in the future I would address 
my little one a letter. 

"All right, Frejolity, I'll do that for you with 
pleasure; and am the surest lad in Boston to 
go out and see them; and if successful in bus- 
iness, some day Fairy will be mine, and if 
you come back for Glenn, then we will be 
brothers; don't you see?" 

"Bully for the boy, shake," said I. "Say, 
Chink-eye, it does kinder run up my hind leg 
that I will sometime return or send for that 
same little lady that 1 fed up on cream choco- 
lates out at that country schoolhouse exhibition 
that night. Don't care if she was raised on 
bean soil, she is a sweet little girl, anyway." 

"Right you are, Frejolity, and you never 
can do better if you search the earth." At 
that we parted, and the few remaining days 
that I had for recreation in the Hub City I 
spent with much pleasure with my little an- 
them, and all of this pleasure was accom- 
plished on the Q. T. from her old man. I 
felt that I loved this lady also. But the ac- 
commodations were very chilly for me on the 
outside, as 1 never did appreciate the gnawing 
off of pickets and posts by the light of the 
moon. That alone would discourage love and 
matrimony. My success through the states 
'financially was very flattering to me, as I had 
saved of my earnings and winnings in the past 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 175 

ten years, just eighteen hundred dollars; an 
average of one hundred and eighty dollars per 
year. But it came like the sands of time. 1 
had me a hollow leather belt made to order 
large enough to hold fourteen hundred dollars, 
and I strapped that same belt around me 
underneath my clothing. In that way I felt 
much safer than if I had carried it in my 
pocket. The other four hundred dollars I 
would use as expense money between Boston 
and Honduras. All was ready but throwing 
my wardrobe into my little valise. This was 
on Sunday afternoon, and for the evening 1 
had made arrangements to call on my little 
anthem at her home regardless of the consent 
of her Papa, and if it came to a knock down I 
would stand it. 1 arrived at her home at 7:30 
P. M. sun time; rang the door bell and was 
welcomed in with the sweetest smile and bow 
that 1 ever saw her accomplish. It made me 
feel very happy, for I thought by such a 
greeting from her and at her home, all within 
was serene. We two souls were the only in- 
habitants in that room, for, I suppose a couple 
of hours. We built an air castle and had it 
standing on end, and with a few plans 
mapped out for the future. Just then in came 
the old man. My little anthem (now, why 1 
called her my little anthem was, she was 
surely the loveliest singer I ever heard) intro- 



176 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

duced me to her father in this way: "Mr. 
Frejolity, shake hands with my father, Mr. 
Morando." 1 took him by the paw and I 
thought in my soul the old rascal was trying 
to crush every bone in my carcass; but I was 
equal to the occasion and squeezed with him. 
He loosened with a growl, and I loosened 
with thanks. He then took his seat near a 
small center table and rather close to the grate, 
while I returned to a rocker near my anthem. 
All was quiet for a few minutes then the old 
man said, ''Well, Mr. Frejolity, 1 overheard a 
little conversation between you and my daugh- 
ter, so thought 1 would just step in and put 
on the finishing touch." 

''All right, Mr. Morando," said I, "But 
please give it to us a little mild, won't you?" 

"I don't know as 1 will, or I don't know 
as I won't," said he, " But that little air cas- 
tle that you and my daughter built must fall 
to the ground, and you can consider it all off." 

"Now, Mr. Morando," said 1, "You must 
explain to this court, as we do not quite 
understand what you mean by that little air 
castle and that all off business." 

"Well, my young greenhorn, I can explain 
to you in a very few words. 1 understand 
that you and that little anthem, as you call 
her, have built an air castle and laid some 






I 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 177 

plans for the future. Now, sir, that same air 
castle that you built, and those same plans 
that you greenhorns have made, are no more. 
Now, do you understand?" 

"1 do, Mr. Morando, and am sure that we 
both feel very much hurt over the judge's de- 
cision." It killed me to think that the old 
rascal had been eavesdropping. It was now 
my turn to say something, so I went after 
him in this way — ''Oh, pshaw, say, old slob- 
ber mouth, 1 guess you are troubled with 
wheels, don't you think?" It riled his temper 
and he roared like a sea lion, frightening my 
little anthem over in one corner of the room 
and whining like a sick kitten. I raised to my 
feet, pushed over to where she was standing 
and just about ready to whine myself (but 
not so badly scared but that I must and would 
keep both eyes on the old slobber mouth's 
hysterical motions, and that if he made a move 
for me I would crack it to him the best I 
knew how, even if I was under his own roof). 
Well, after he had gone through with a reg- 
ular gymnasium performance, he then said, 
" Mr. — let's see, I guess I have forgotten your 
name, please to tell me again; and your oc- 
cupation." 

"My name sir," said 1, ''is Azariah Frejolity, 

and my occupation is that of an artist." 
"Oh, Frejolity, and an artist." Then said 



178 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

he, "Your father must have gotten that name 
from some Feji Island." 

**No," said I, ''That name only dates back 
to Slobberville. You know there is where 
that big Booze Foundry used to be." I'll tell 
you that was a choker for the old man to 
swallow, for he always went by the name 
of Slobbermouth at the shop, and was a booze 
fighter. So you see I gave it to him in hot 
sections. I see him swelling up and getting 
quite red in his face, and I thought it was 
time for me to prepare for the worst. A 
bluffing thought came to my mind. I had in 
my hip pocket a piece of half-inch lead pipe 
that I used in running down my canvas strop, 
and if he came after me I would draw that 
on him. But he recovered from his hysterical 
condition and spoke in a somewhat milder 
tone. He said: "Now, Mr. Frejolity, may I 
ask where you hail from?" 

"Well, sir, I was born in Southern California, 
down by the sad ocean waves." 

"Oh, I see, I see; yes, yes, and you remind 
me very much of those large ocean lobsters 
that drift ashore out in that niche of the 
woods." 

"Oh, I don't know; well, I'll just remind 
you of another article that drifts ashore out in 
that country. I call them slobber mouthed 
shad." At that saying another roar went up, 






I 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 179 

and the first article that I saw coming at me 
was a pair of coal tongs. I dodged them of 
course and they struck a fine mantel clock 
that sat on a shelf against the wall. The 
crash sounded fierce, and I soon had my little 
piece of lead pipe pointed at him and at the 
same time was trying to see if my little an- 
them was standing pat. But no, she had 
passed out. The old fellow's eyesight was 
better than I anticipated, for he at once dis- 
covered the bluff 1 was pointing at him and 
made a rush for me. I threw that piece of 
pipe and it struck him endwise just below 
the right eye. He ripped and he snorted, and 
that brought to his rescue the old woman 
and a meddlesome little terrier dog. Say, I 
gave that pup one of the hardest kicks of my 
life, then picked him up by the hind legs and 
threw him at the old man, grabbed my hat 
and left the house. It was no ragtime or fu- 
neral march either. I called it a quick-step. I 
thought, "Gee-whiz, I'll bet I killed that pup 
and perhaps soured my little anthem." But 
then, time would tell, and I showed that old 
slobber mouth what a barber could do when 
cornered. 



CHAPTER XI 

After throwing the pup at the old man, 
and leaving my little anthem's home under 
such circumstances, I of course kept up that 
quick-step until 1 reached my boarding-house. 
It was then eleven P. M. and the coming 
morning would be a very busy one for me. 
As I said before, I had a hollow belt made to 
order and so arranged that I could buckle it 
securely around me and under my clothing 
in which I intended to carry fourteen hun- 
dred dollars. The balance of the eighteen hun- 
dred, which would be four hundred I would 
keep out for my expenses to the shores of 
Honduras. 

The time set for our ship to sail was on 
the coming day, October 14th, 1896. My 
wardrobe was quickly packed as I did not 
keep much of a supply on hand. All was 
ready and I still had a few hours in the city, 
so thought as I had not seen nor heard from 
my little anthem since I shot the old man 
with that lead pipe, that I would leisurely 
wend my way in that direction and perhaps 
meet her. Just as I arrived opposite her home 
who did I see but that old slobber mouth 

181 



182 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

walking around the corner of his residence 
with his right eye bandaged up with a white 
cloth. I kept my course for about two 
squares, then turned back, meeting my girl 
just one square from her home. We talked 
fast and to the point. She was rather pouty 
and told me that her father forbade her 
ever recognizing me again, and that 1 had 
closed one of his eyes and killed the pup. 
1 gave her a nice little talk, and that smoothed 
the trouble all up; that is, as far as the 
girl and I were concerned; and with my 
promise that I might some time return to her, 
1 tipped my hat and we parted. 1 had pur- 
chased my passage a few days in advance to 
Truxillo, Honduras. So, all I had to do was 
to take my little valise and board a car for 
the ship's landing. I did so, and was soon 
gliding over the waters of the Atlantic Ocean, 
which seemed so different from shaving 
cranks and moon faces. On the third day out 
it was getting still different. I began to feel 
as though I would like to be standing on that 
bean soil back in Massachusetts. I could not 
swim very good, so thought it best to remain 
on board the ship and meet the enemy. There 
were about three hundred passengers aboard, 
all bound for some place. I did not ask 
many questions at first, was too busy 
with my legs. And had 1 known the results 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 183 

of ocean waves, I would have taken a few 
extra linings for my stomach. Its something 
awful, I belched forth something that resem- 
bled shucked peanuts, but concluded that they 
were the last remains of the Boston 
baked beans. We had just passed the 
Bermuda Islands, and were not quite half way 
to Puerto Rico; San Juan being our first place 
of stopping. When 1 first sighted the 
Bermuda Islands I thought to myself, if 
Chink-eye was here and we had a couple of 
Winchesters we would take those Islands and 
annex them to the United States; for Amer- 
icans tell me that they are easy. After which 
we would have taken a big drink of Moth- 
inghum. I took a swig of it anyway, think- 
ing it might quiet down my stomach but it 
seemed to act just the reverse. I had one 
consolation, that if all went well we would in 
a few days land at San Juan, Puerto Rico, 
and lay there for three days. The Americans 
there were quite scarce, especially young men, 
but the natives, half clad can be seen in all 
parts of the city holding out their hands for 
a coin. I would like to make my home there, 
I guess not. But if you want to see pretty 
Spanish ladies go to San Juan. 1 hired a 
guide, visited a few of the principal sights in 
that city, a portion of the mountainous 
country, and coffee plantations, examined 



184 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

quite closely the tropical fruits, palms and 
flowers, the latter of which they take great 
delight in raising; and in great varieties. The 
time had arrived for our little canoe to leave the 
shores of Puerto Rico, and it was like a funeral 
march to me on going down to that vessel. 
Anyhow, I climbed on board and we sailed 
off through the waters of the Carribean Sea, 
bound for the city of Santo Domingo. We 
lay at this place but one day. I did not leave 
the city. Here, alas, 1 found a plenty of al- 
most naked natives holding out their hands 
for money. And had I undertaken to give 
each of them a coin I would have been 
stranded and a long ways from the stars and 
stripes, without a string tied to me. 1 was 
holding to my best friend, for 1 well knew 
that if 1 did not strike something in Honduras, 
that 1 would need him (I mean my money), 
to take me through to California. 1 once more 
boarded ship and landed at Kingston, Jamaica, 
a tropical city that I rather fancied. We lay 
here three days. The first day my guide and 
I peeped out about five miles into the interior. 
On returning to the ship I felt quite tired, and 
made haste for my little bed; or bunk. The 
next morning after I had eaten my breakfast, 
1 started for the principal part of the city. Did 
not return for dinner, and kept moving. 
Presently I discovered a couple of young ladies 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 185 

that were seemingly out walking for pleasure. 
I admired them very much, as their wardrobes 
were fashioned very much after those of Amer- 
ican ladies, and their looks and actions re- 
minded me very much of the girls at New 
Orleans. 1 was, of course, very anxious to 
meet them. They were onto me all right, and 
gave me a chance by stopping at what I called 
a hole in the wall. In that same hole I went, 
and found them seated at a small quaint look- 
ing table, seemingly waiting on an order. I 
saluted them the best I knew how, and re- 
ceived from them for my bow and tip of my 
hat their recognition. 1 then asked the pleas- 
ure to sit at the same table and have refresh- 
ments with them. It was granted me very 
politely. And while a jolly conversation was 
going on on the inside, old Sol on the outside 
was casting his rays down in hot numbers. 
The names of these young ladies were Clara 
and Mae Seymouth. They were sisters and 
had lived in Kingston about four years. I, of 
course, told them my name, where I was from, 
where I was going, and that I would leave on 
the following day for Truxillo, Honduras. 
Coming from the States made them feel as 
though they had always known me, and I 
fared sumptuously. Nothing would do but 
that I go along home with them, and their 
invitation I accepted with thanks. Guess 



186 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

they imagined the prodigal son had re- 
turned. Of course, they all used that South- 
ern brogue and I was a Johnnie. Finally the 
old lady scampered off for the kitchen to pre- 
pare supper, while the old gentleman, the two 
girls and myself remained in the room samp- 
ling some of their fine wines. They seemed 
to live in luxury, for everything had the ap- 
pearance of wealth. In a sort of a roundabout 
way I found that the old gentleman was quite 
an extensive exporter of India Rubber and 
Jamaica Rum. It seemed but a short time to 
me until supper was called, and I'll bet they 
thought I was troubled with a tapeworm; for 
1 filled up all the available space that I had, 
and the expansion of my trousers resembled 
that of the United States. Well, after we were 
through eating, we again entered the sitting- 
room, or parlor rather, for an evening's 
entertainment. The old gent and myself had 
indulged quite freely in the wine before supper, 
and as a natural result we were jagged up for 
a time. A fine piano stood in the farther cor- 
ner of the room, and all the center furniture 
was arranged likewise; giving us room for 
anything that might suit the occasion. 

The first on the program was a song by 
Mae, entitled, "Down in Dixie." You see, 
they still had fond recollections of the sunny 
South, and so did I. I appreciated the com- 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 187 

pany of the ladies of New Orleans very much. 
The only kick I had coming was the wages I 
received, and a few stiffs that came to our 
shop to be barbered. Clara came next with 
the song entitled, "The Blue and the Gray." 
That was rather sentimental for the old man 
and I, as we had on our skates and wanted 
something fast and furious. When Clara had 
finished she raised from her seat and called 
on Mr. Frejolity for a song. 1 had, while in 
Cincinnati and Chicago, taken lessons on the 
piano, and had learned a few songs that I 
could play and sing quite nicely. And the jag 
that I had with me had driven away all em- 
barrassment so that I was well prepared for 
the occasion. 1 took my seat at the instru- 
ment, see-sawed around for perhaps five min- 
utes, making sure that 1 would make no 
mistakes, for the girls understood piano music 
to perfection. My first solo was, "All Coons 
Look Ahke to Me." And to say that it 
pleased them is putting it rather mild. The 
old gent, 1 thought, was in the last throes of 
a spasm, and nothing would do but another 
song; so 1 gave them "My Honey Boy." 
Then one more, just one more. I was trying 
my very best to make them feel that my 
presence with them was a good thing. And 
I knew by their kindness and generosity to- 
wards me that 1 was the only pebble in Kings- 



188 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

ton. I then started in with my third and last 
song entitled, "Way Down Yonder in the Corn 
Field." They all knew the song and joined 
me. The old gent taking the tenor, Clara 
the soprano, and Mae the alto; while I carried 
the bass. We repeated that song the second 
time and became so happy over the blending 
of our voices that the old man and 1 wound 
up that part of the entertainment with an old 
fashioned cake-walk. The clock had struck 
the hour, one o'clock, and the old gent and 
lady feeling somewhat tired and sleepy retired 
for the night, leaving me and the two girls 
to our lone selves. It was but a short time 
until I had Clara seated on my right knee and 
Mae on the left; then Mae on the right and 
Clara on the left. You see, 1 had to adjust 
their weight to suit the strength of my limbs. 
Clara's weight was one hundred and thirty 
pounds, while Mae's was one hundred and 
ten. So the adjustment in this case was a 
good thing. 1, of course, did not dare to use 
partiahty with either of them, for they thought 
I was just right, and that I was the first young 
man from the States that they had the pleas- 
ure of meeting since they came to Kingston. 
Well, we three honied around until day- 
light, and we three realized that the night had 
been passed with much pleasure. The girls 
were quite good looking and as I said before, 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 189 

very much up-to-date wit the average dress- 
ers of American ladies. I had on my best 
wardrobe; my shoes were of a brown tan, 
pants fairly tight and Hght in color. Coat 
and vest of black cheviot, flashy colored 
shirt with pleated bosom, high standing 
collar with a four-in-hand tie. My hat was 
of a soft, light brown, broke through the 
center, and a ring on either hand. One of 
them with a one-eight by a one-eight win- 
dow-glass setting, and the other one a plain 
band. You know barbers usually like to wear 
jewelry, especially rings. And to show the 
girls my appreciation of their kindness, I would 
as a token of remembrance present each of 
the ladies with a ring from off my finger, they 
to draw cuts made of tooth-picks which 1 had 
in my vest pocket. The longest cut to take 
the choice of rings. Clara drew the ^long cut 
and chose the window-glass, and of course 
the band ring fell to Mae. They both seemed 
happy over the result of the drawing, and 
would ever keep them in memory of Azariah 
Frejolity. 

The old gentleman and lady had arisen 
from their night's slumber fresh as cucumbers, 
and while Mrs. Seymouth was preparing break- 
fast. Daddy and I was having a little more 
wine, and the girls were laughing at our silly 
conversation. I heard a call for breakfast, and 



190 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

I said, "that's the stuff," for the expansion had 
entirely vanished from my trousers, and I was 
fully prepared for another fill-in. When 
through eating, Daddy and I sampled some of 
his choicest cigars, and by the time we had 
finished those cigars, the hostler drove up 
to the front with a reasonably good vehicle 
for the girls and myself to use, and to go 
wherever we pleased. Frejolity smiled but 
said nothing. The girls, of course, were 
in front of the mirror puckering and primp- 
ing so long that I had become quite nervous; 
and told them we would just load that little 
mirror into our wagon and take it with us. 
Well, we finally got started, and the horse 
being quite speedy took us up, down and 
around the city at a merry pace, and having 
more fun than a nest of kittens. Just as we 
were making our last turn for home, (we 
were going down the line, 1 thought, at the 
rate of a New York Central Vestibule), our 
little wagon came round that turn, just like us 
boys used to do when we played crack the 
whip at school, and one of the rear wheels 
striking a water plug (guess that's what it 
was, I did not stop to examine it), and 
frightened the horse and caused a scatterment 
of humanity that would have made a snap shot 
laugh. The old lady saw the animal coming with 
their little three wheeled wagon and its cargo 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 191 

invisible. She threw up her hands and 
squealed: 

'* Whoa, Sal! " that being the horse's name. 
Then the old man appeared and he squealed: 

"Whoa, Sal!" 

But Sal did not stop until the wreck was 
complete. The girls fared sumptuously, just a 
few slight scratches and bumps on their faces. 
Clara was driving when we were cutting that 
half circle and it looked dangerous to me, so 
I grabbed the reins and was dragged, I sup- 
pose, five or six rods before I became un- 
hitched. And dust, *'say, I resembled the man 
at the tail end of a threshing-machine." A 
small portion of the lobe of my right ear was 
gone, a large black-and-blue spot on my left 
cheek bone, and the skin on my nose was 
scraped down to the red. With all this, and 
one broken finger, the girls and I tottered off 
for home. And what aggravated me the 
most, was a lot of ignorant natives standing 
around having a good time over our misfor- 
tune. On reaching home we found the old folks 
very much excited. Dinner was almost ready 
for I smelled it cooking. We all went to 
work dusting, washing and doctoring. 1, of 
course, had a double dose; the patching up 
of my face and the setting of my finger. I 
made the splints and padded them with a 
piece of soft cloth that they had on hand. 



192 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

then Mrs. Seymouth held to my wrist while 
Daddy pulled the finger back into place. 1 
adjusted the splints and Mae bandaged and 
tied it up. With this accomplished, all was 
then ready to partake of a bountifully spread 
table. I think I must have looked rather com- 
ical; court plaster on my ear, nose, cheek 
bone, and a big bundle of rags on my finger. 
With all these afflictions I did justice to the 
elegant dinner that was set before me; or us. 
Our vessel was to leave for Truxillo, Hon- 
duras, at two-thirty, P. M. The time was 
already twenty minutes past one, and some 
little distance to the landing. So, bidding Mr. 
and Mrs. Seymouth good-bye, I left their 
home slightly disfigured but still in the ring. 
Clara and Mae accompanied me to the ships' 
landing, and the parting with those girls and 
their parents was of a different nature than 
that of old Pap Slobbermouth and my 
little anthem at Boston. I stayed off of the 
steamer up to the limit, then bidding the 
girls my first and last farewell climbed on 
board, and the waving of nose rags continued 
until we were out of sight. 



1 



CHAPTER XII 

The first thing I did was to go to my state- 
room and make an investigation as to whether 
my little valise was still there. I did not care 
so much for the valise as I did for the forty- 
four calibre Smith and Weston revolver that I 
had left within it, and that I might find use 
for before I would reach the shores of Cali- 
fornia. Finding everything all O. K., 1 then 
took a stroll over the ship. I had, on my 
water journey, formed the acquaintance and 
friendship of a few that were bound for 
that same Honduras that I was. They had 
quite a good deal of fun with me over my 
skinned up face and broken finger. That was 
all right, for 1 considered that I was re- 
warded tenfold in the way of a good time 
while in Kingston with the Seymouth family. 
Our large ocean steamer had been gliding 
along serenely, but sometime during the night 
I awoke from my slumber to find that we 
had come in contact with what 1 called a 
black squall. At times it seemed as though 
our vessel was riding the waves endwise. I, 
of course, was trying to get into my trousers, 
and with the howling of wind, shrieking 

1% 198 



194 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

of women and cursing of men, made me feel 
quite nervous; knowing that something des- 
perate was taking place. With quite a few 
bumps and bruises I finally got myself dressed 
and out with the surging mass of humanity, 
expecting at any moment to go down to the 
bottom of the Carribean Sea. Men and women 
with just their night robes on, striking and 
grabbing at each other as if mad. I staggered 
back some little distance from the worst of 
the fray, when quite a large lady and very much 
excited, grabbed me around the neck and cry- 
ing as if she had lost her best friend. My 
limbs were very weak and trembly and my 
stomach very much the same. Finally I said 
to her, *' Lady, what seems to be the matter, 
have you lost a friend ? " She answered with 
something, 1 could not understand her lan- 
guage, guess she was a Spanish lady. Just 
then the vessel made a terrific plunge and we 
both went to the floor with her arms still 
clinging around my neck. If the vessel had 
sprung aleak I did not know it. Anyway, 
when we went down 1 discovered that we 
were laying in about three inches of water. 
I made a struggle to free myself from her 
grasp, and in so doing hurt my broken finger 
like sin. 1 still had my presence of mind with 
me and knew that I was struggling with an 
excited woman, and in order to loosen her 






WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 195 

grasp on me I would just catch her by the 
windpipe and shut off that part of the machin- 
ery. I did this and she loosened nicely. I 
then hustled back to my little bunk about as 
fast as my stilts would take me. I immedi- 
ately sat flat down on the floor, braced my 
feet against something, and sicker than a buz- 
zard I waited the result; not caring very much 
whether I survived or perished. The storm 
had then been raging for perhaps one hour, 
and it seemed as though the vessel was not 
going up and down hill quite so freely as it 
had been. Anyhow, there 1 sat with my 
pipes for a bracer, winking and blinking like 
a toad in a thunder storm. 1 finally dozed a 
little and awoke to fmd that daylight had 
appeared and that the storm had passed over. 
I then took one of those long breaths like 
people usually do after an exciting time and 
my next words were, ''Hurrah for General 
Jackson." I then fussed and fiddled around 
until I got my little valise open, and the first 
article that I gazed upon was a bottle of wine 
that Daddy Seymouth had given me for use in 
case of sickness. I drank of it quite freely 
and the result was, that in one-half hour I 
was standing erect and ready for the next 
degree. I had often heard people remark that 
this world was full of trials and tribulations. 
I imagined the trials and tribulations in this 



196 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

case was badly mixed up with wind. Our 
vessel had drifted with the storm and it looked 
as though we were bound for the Isthmus of 
Panama. And I surely would much rather 
have landed there, or in some South American 
swamp, than not to have landed at all. The 
interior of the upper deck of the vessel was 
fairly well straightened up when I passed out 
of my state-room, but the lower deck was a 
sight to behold. The water had all been 
pumped out of her, but the filth and dis- 
placements still remained. During the excite- 
ment there were two women and four men 
pushed overboard and went down to watery 
graves. There were also two women and one 
man dead aboard our ship from prostration. 
They were wrapped up nicely and slid down 
below. The cleaning of the vessel was then 
soon complete. On our arrival at Truxillo, 
Honduras, we were met at the landing by 
quite a large crowd of knot heads. Cheer 
after cheer went up from them as a greeting 
on our safe arrival. I, of course, did my 
cheering in the state-room shortly after the 
storm had passed over, and just before 1 drank 
the wine. Well, I and my little valise wan- 
dered around until we reached the principal 
part of the city, I amusing myself taking in 
some of the queer looking sights, and at the 
same time keeping my peepers open for a 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 197 

good hotel or boarding-house. Just at that 
moment I discovered coming toward me a 
friend of my father's by the name of Barney 
Rollins. I had not forgotten his face, although 
I was but a lad of fifteen summers the last time 
I saw him. Anyway, 1 made up my mind to 
address him, and did so in this way: "Hello, 
there, Barney Rollins." His reply was, "Who 
in thunder are you?" 

"W-y, my name is Frejolity." 

"What?" said he. "Azariah Frejolity, a 
son of Jasper Frejolity?" 

"Yah voal/' said I. 

"Shake," said Barney. 

"And what in thunder are you doing way 
down here?" 

"Oh, just looking around." 

"Well," said Barney, "Come with me, and 
if you have a few hundred dollars and will 
follow my instructions, you can in a couple 
or three years return to the states a rich man." 
I walked right along with him like a good 
little boy, for to become well equipped finan- 
cially in this world was my heart's delight. 
We went to his home together, and I re- 
mained with him just one week. We talked 
everything over that there was any money in, 
and I found that with my fourteen hundred 
dollars I could make a pretty fair start in the 
business of exporting dye woods and tropical 



198 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

fruits. With Barney's instructions in the way 
of buying and selling, I made the start. My 
profits on the first shipment made me plenty 
of money. I soon caught on and became 
rather shrewd at the business. The shrewder 
I became the larger the long green grew, and 
at the close of the second year I took a fit to 
return to California, and there to remain until 
my light went out. 

My check at the bank was good for twenty 
thousand dollars, besides, I had real estate 
valued at ten thousand dollars. When every- 
thing was complete and 1 was ready to start, 
Barney said, "Say, Frejolity, 1 think you need 
a couple of good guides and protectors; and 
1 recommend for your safety to the shores of 
the Pacific ocean, two brothers by the name 
of Felix and Jerome La Gua." 

'•All right Barney, I am ready and willing to 
pay them well for their services, and also to 
bear all expenses." The two brothers were 
sent for and I hired them at fifty dollars 
apiece, American money, with all bills paid. 
1 left my real estate in care of Barney, with 
the understanding that I would never return 
to Honduras, and that he should dispose of 
my property and remit to me by check or 
draft. All this he promised me he would do. 
1 then gave him a second shake of the hand 
and the two guides and I took the first train 






WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 199 

out of Truxillo for Tegucigalpa, the capital 
of Honduras, and to say that I liked the cap- 
ital city, or the country we passed through, I 
cannot. As for the people, it seemed the 
closer we came to the equator, the more 
ignorant and naked the natives became, and 
with more meat on their heads to the square 
inch than a Chinese Boxer. Well, our next 
place of stopping, or town rather, was San 
Salvador; the capital of Salvador, and to reach 
that city we must go astride of donkeys. 1 
found that it would not pay me to hire them 
when 1 could buy at twenty-five dollars apiece, 
so I made the purchase of three, all equipped 
and ready for use at a total cost of ninety 
dollars. I was still holding on to my little 
valise, and to lug it with me through to the 
Pacific Ocean seemed terrible. Anyhow, I 
tied it to the saddle and we were off. The 
guides were expert riders and I was the 
monkey. We had traveled, I thought, half 
way to the pole, and were in the mountains 
when night overtook us. The guides stopped 
their donkeys and I stopped mine. 

"Now," said Felix, to me, "do you see 
that large projecting rock over yonder?" 

"I do," said I. 

"Well, we will dismount and put up for 
the night under her shadow." 

Say, that was the happiest stop that I ever 



200 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

experienced; for when I dismounted from that 
animal's back, I imagined the seat of my pants 
was a complete wreck. The guides laughed 
quite heartily at me, while I thought it rather 
serious." We tied the animals to some nearby 
shrubbery, then went to the shelter of that 
rock. On entering that shelter 1 thought of 
the old Methodist song that we woodchucks 
used to sing in our country schoolhouse in 
Southern California, "Rock of Ages Cleft for 
Me Let Me Hide Myself in Thee." The shel- 
ter of a rock is all right if they don't break 
off, but when they loosen its all over. We 
had prepared for the occasion, as we knew 
that we would have to sleep some place in 
the mountains. It was all darkness with us, 
but 1 managed to get my little valise open 
and out of it quite a nice lunch and a quart 
bottle of good strong coffee which we had 
brought with us for our stomach's sake. When 
through eating the guides lit their pipes while 
I puffed away on a half-breed cigar. When 
through with that luxury we three lay down 
side by side for our night's rest. 

It was something new for me to make my 
bed out of a solid rock, and Barney had often 
told me of the numerous wild animals, reptiles 
and poisonous insects that infest Central 
America, that I did not care to sleep very 
much. I would rather worry the night 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 201 

through meditating and knowing what was 
going on on the outside. I would rather an 
Indian (who are quite plentiful through Cen- 
tral America) would have taken my scalp than 
some wild animal devour my carcass. My 
guides and protectors were sound asleep while 
1 lay there with my Smith and Weston revol- 
ver in position to meet all comers and goers. 
At every little rustling or squeaking noise I 
could feel my hair straighten up and that 
same cord of wood racing up and down my 
spine that I used to feel in the States. It was 
but a short time seemingly, until I heard one 
of the donkeys holloing bloody murder. My 
yellow streak returned, my scalp quivered, 
but I made a rushed to the entrance of that 
cave and shot in the direction of the donkeys. 
The firing of my revolver brought the guides 
to their feet and demanded of me an explana- 
tion for my shooting. There was to be no shoot- 
ing allowed only in case of immediate danger, 
as the sound of a gun at that hour of night 
in the mountains was liable to stir up a nest 
of fighting Indians. I explained to them what 
I had heard, and that one of the donkeys 
and perhaps all of them had been killed by 
some wild animal. They laughed and said I 
was nutty. Once more they lay down and were 
soon sound asleep. I then concluded that if I 
wanted protection it must come from myself. 



202 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

So I sat down at the entrance of that cave on 
a projecting rock (that I by chance discovered 
in feeling around in the darkness) and had 
sat there but a short time until I felt some 
cold legged creeper on the back of my neck, 
and it seemed as though it had more legs than 
sense. I gave it a surprise with my right pro- 
tector and it struck on the rocks below. 

Morning finally dawned and the gray 
donkey that had carried me the day before lay 
stretched out as if dead. I called the guides 
and we all three went out to investigate. 
Sure enough, the little gray turn was so badly 
mangled that he had to be killed. But before 
that was done 1 spoke to him in this way: 

"Well, Jerry, you have met the enemy and 
you will soon be no more." 1 then sang one 
verse of an old time song that I thought 
appropriate, entitled ''Nicodemus." You know 
Nicodemus was a slave, so was the donkey. 
Then 1 told him that if I ever returned to 
New Orleans 1 would tell his friends that he 
died game in the mountains of Honduras. 
Of course he was one of the old turns. I 
did not remain to see Jerry killed, but Felix 
did the job. We still had a little lunch left, we 
ate that, then made a second start for the city 
of San Salvador. Felix and myself astride of 
the larger donkey, and Jerome the smaller 
one. We had been jogging along very 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 208 

donkeyfied, and our path became so rough 
and rugged that Felix and I took it afoot 
over a mountain pass, while Jerome took the 
animals in a roundabout way, meeting us on 
the opposite side. You see, the boys knew just 
where they were at, and how to get through 
those mountains successfully. They had been 
there before. So had 1, but it was in the States, 
where I felt at home, or in other words, was 
with the flag. That makes lots of difference. 
For when you are with the flag, you can be 
much more independent and saucier than in 
a strange land with a couple of fearless Span- 
iards. Will never forget the troublesome insects, 
and the hot tropical sun of Honduras and Sal- 
vador. We had just crossed the line between 
Honduras and Salvador, and another day was 
fast passing away. We had made slow prog- 
ress, and would be compelled to remain 
over night in what I called insect valley. 
I kept my eyes on the insects, especially 
the mosquitoes. They looked like gallinippers, 
and hungry as horse flies. I soon caught on, 
and as long as I could see, fought them to a 
finish. Felix and Jerome had gathered enough 
fuel to keep a glowing fire during the night; 
for light and smoke we must have. And 
with that light and smoke I gave the boys 
two dollars apiece to help me out and save 
me from looking like a three cent jumping- 



204 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

jack, and perhaps save my life. When morn- 
ing dawned and I was snailing it around our 
little camp-fire, the boys remarked that Aza- 
riah Frejolity looked very much like ox-tail 
soup. I was fasting, 1 was weak. I thought, 
"gee whiz! 1 wish 1 had a little lacteal nour- 
ishment from some brindle bovine." I settled 
with the boys early, and Jerome went out 
and shot a small animal, so he said, but, 1 said, 
**it was the size of a half-grown American bull 
dog, and resembled the same." 

**Now, boys," said Jerome, "what will we 
have, a roast or a boil.?" 

"Well," said 1, "we can't stay here all 
day to roast that pup, so I'll take for mine a 
large porter-house or a big hamburg. " He 
didn't know either of the two cutlets from 
gooseberry jam. Anyway, we ate of it, and 
1 was just about as hungry as I was that 
evening I took supper at Daddy Seymouth's 
over in Kingston. In this case 1 had no vari- 
ety to choose from, and that was all right. I 
was at a place where 1 accepted of small 
favors and large ones in proportion. Anyhow, 
I ate my share of the animal and without 
bread of any kind; was satisfied and thankful 
that 1 was standing on my pins, as it was 
a very sickly country for an American to be 
moving in. We saw a great many wild 
animals and different species of birds of all 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 205 

sizes and colors. Occasionally we would see 
a large reptile seeking its hiding in some 
crevice of the rocks, and others laying out in 
the hot sun on the limb of a tree, waiting a 
chance to alight on something or nothing. I 
did not get curious to investigate or to pound 
the life out of them. " Oh no, but just kept 
moving. And hot ? Say, the sunny South 
isn't in it with Honduras and Salvador. I'll bet 
icicles would be a fine article for those natives 
to play with. I think if I had struck one of 
those large cakes of ice that nature gives to 
North Dakota, I would have stood pat; at 
least, until the sun went down." 

I will say that during my ten years 
as a journeyman barber, I never troubled 
a brother workman to do my shaving. 
That was my own bother. Not that 
I did not like to be shaved by another 
workman, "oh no, but it saved the time of 
one workman and making it a little more con- 
venient for the customers that might be wait- 
ing, or that might come in during the opera- 
tion." Before I left Boston I disposed of my 
kit of tools all but one pair of shears and a 
couple of choice razors. One of them being 
an old Tally-ho ground to a three-fourths con- 
cave, while the other one was a Heinisch and 
ground to a full concave. These two razors 
gave me entire satisfaction, for they usually 



206 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

held Up in any rush that might happen to 
come along. And should they become a lit- 
tle too smooth to suit me, a few strokes over 
the blue water hone and they would be ready 
for another rush. As I was going to say, that 
I had not shaved myself since 1 left Kingston, 
but I did, just before I reached Truxillo, Hon- 
duras. So thought I would again rid myself 
of the itching bristles before I reached San 
Salvador. When through, Felix and Jerome 
insisted that I shave them. 1 did so, and the 
different appearance of the men made me feel 
more safe in their company; as they then 
looked more like gentlemen than villians and 
cut-throats. Well, we kept snailing along, 
and it still remained rough and rugged. Off 
to our left I could see fire and smoke belch- 
ing forth from a high peak, a volcano, and 
the first that I had ever witnessed. It was 
grand, and I shall never forget it. We had 
not traveled more than a couple of miles 
farther until the rocks commenced to tremble, 
then shake. We dismounted, for the donkeys 
could hardly keep on their feet. The shake lasted 
at least one-half minute, and at times for an 
hour thereafter we could feel slight traces of, 
well, I will call it the tail end of the quake. 
I was thoroughly aroused, and this time my 
scalp raised; and if Azariah Frejolity was 
moving, it was slower than rnush in a pot. 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 207 

I, of course, knew that I was trying to get 
back to Pap's and Mam's log cabin down by the 
sad ocean waves, and just at that time those 
ocean waves would have been heaven to me. 
A fellow that can stand the bumps and bruises 
that he will fall heir to on that route, should 
think well of the Universalist's Doctrine, for 
the punishment he gets is very severe and a 
wonderful shock to the nervous system. 

On we went, and from the time of that 
shaking of the rocks we made no stops until 
we reached the city of San Salvador. It was 
then about six-fifteen P. M. 1 told the guides 
to direct me to the best hotel in the city. 
They did so; then 1 ordered the two donkeys 
put up and fed, and we three joined one 
table at the hotel and took supper together. 
And we three were hungry enough to have 
eaten up that colored waiter. 1 did not tip 
him, and think that was the cause of our short 
order. After we had eaten that short order, I 
gave him a couple of daddies and sent him 
back to the kitchen. His return this time 
brought smiles to our faces and slobbers to 
our mouths. The boys' belts tightened like 
the rim of a drum, and 1 would have been in, 
the same condition, but had taken off my belt 
when I changed my wardrobe from that of 
light linen to my usual dress suit. Had 1 not 
made that change I would have resembled a 



208 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

fresh swilled pig. When through eating, we 
three moved to the office in a sort of wid- 
dlety waddlety style, for our expansion was 
a button loosener. At the office I purchased 
some of the finest cigars in the case, and we 
enjoyed the same while strolling around some 
of the principal streets of that city. Finally 
we came to a large well lighted room and 
thought we would like to see what kind of a 
strain of cattle was on the interior, and in we 
went. I at once discovered it was a saloon, 
or a place to drink and gamble. The first 
thing 1 did was to put a tener on the four, 
and copped out forty. Felix and Jerome's 
eyes bunged out like peeled onions. Every- 
body drank, and Frejolity was the whole push. 
I didn't have the least idea we could get 
drinks made in Kentucky, but thought I 
would try and called for some Bourbon. The 
gentleman at the helm said **That name re- 
minds me very much of old Kentucky," and 
raised the stuff to the bar. 1 remarked, that I 
expected I had drank a few gallons of that 
same material over in Covington, and not far 
from a pear tree. He said, he knew nothing 
of the pear tree, but as I was an American, 
we would shake and have a good time to- 
gether. I told him my name was Azariah 
Frejolity, and that my home was in Southern 
California, where I had been, what I had been 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 209 

doing, and that I was just returning to my 
Pa's cabin home. And with my yellow streak 
experience that 1 had gone through with, I 
thought 1 would surely be ready to settle down 
in the neighborhood of my birthplace. He 
gave me his name as George Waldorf, from 
Detroit, Mich. Also told me when and how 
1 could reach a Pacific port that would let me 
out for San Francisco on the following even- 
ing. As the hour was getting late, and the 
bulk of our conversation had been chewed 
over, the guides and I bid Mr. Waldorf good- 
night and left his place of business nicely 
corned up; reaching our hotel at eleven-thirty 
P. M., leaving a call with the night clerk for 
six-thirty A. M., and were shown to our room 
which had been arranged with two beds for 
my convenience and safety. 1 was to leave 
the city on the following morning at nine 
A. M., for San Jose, Guatamala, and from 
which port I would board ship for San Fran- 
cisco. So I thought it best to settle my bill 
with Felix and Jerome at once. I was to pay 
the boys $50.00 apiece, but concluded that if 
they would do it, I would give each of them 
a donkey and forty dollars in money; of which 
they accepted quite cheerfully. We then re- 
tired for the night. Felix and Jerome occupy- 
ing one bed, while 1 made good time in the 
other; with all mosquitoes barred out. Morn- 



210 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

ing dawned, and we were called on time. 
We then took a drink of Bourbon from a flask 
presented to me by my friend Mr. Waldorf, 
then going to the dining-room we ate our break- 
fast, smoked, and with all bills settled, I and 
my little valise started for the depot; and the 
guides I suppose returned to Truxillo from 
whence they came. The distance from San 
Salvador to San Jose, Guatamala, is but eighty- 
five miles; and I soon reached my destination. 
I was only in the city of San Jose about three 
hours until I boarded ship for San Francisco. 
While in San Jose, Guatamala, 1 thought I 
would like to go through a part of Mexico at a 
go-as-you-please and land at the city of Man- 
zanillo, Mexico; then take a vessel from 
that city to San Francisco. And had I taken 
that overland route, there would have been 
that same chain of mountains to contend with 
that I and my guides had in Honduras and 
Salvador. And my experience in crossing those 
rocks had caused me to look like a weezel. I 
was tired of all kinds of waves, and especially 
water waves. And yet, we were, and had 
been gliding along serenely. The first place 
at which our vessel stopped after leaving San 
Jose, Guatamala, was Manzanillo, Mexico. It 
was then 2 o'clock P. M. and we would re- 
main in the harbor until the following day 
about that same hour. Time was not at a 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 211 

premium with me, so I would just take a little 
peep at some of the Greasers and half-breed 
Indians. It beats the duce how the natives 
do watch an American in those tropical coun- 
tries. And you give them, or a great many 
of them, the least chance, they will relieve 
their best friend of his money, if it required a 
few knife stabs to accomplish it. And the 
money that is in it is all that would induce 
me, and 1 think any other American, to take up 
their home for just a few of their days, south of 
the Tropic of Cancer. The ways and mode 
of living with the lower classes of humanity 
in Mexico remain just about the same as in 
Guatamala, Salvador and Honduras. Not so 
much frail clothing worn in some parts of 
Mexico as in the other three countries just 
mentioned, but their brains are just about the 
same in size. What little time 1 had in the 
city of Manzanillo, I saw but two Gray horses. 
1 gave them the sign but they paid no more 
attention to it than an Egyptian mummy 
would to a Bashi Bazowk. 

The hour had arrived for supper, so I me- 
andered my way back to the vessel, ate that 
supper, smoked another half-bred cigar, caus- 
ing me to feel quite weak and trembly and 
with a cold clammy perspiration on my brow 
1 went to bed. 1 got up the next morning 
feehng just fair; went up street, drank a glass 



212 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

of mothinghum, the same article that I took 
with me when I left Boston harbor. You 
know I took it with me in case of sickness, 
and it came very near eating the lining out 
of my stomach; and what I had left of it I 
threw overboard. Our next stop was at San 
Diego, California, the land of the free and the 
home of the brave. Of course, I was not so 
brave, but my heart beat with gladness as I 
traced the outlines of my little cabin home 
just twelve miles out from San Diego. 

The third night out there was on deck 
an old time Mexican dance, and 1 remained 
a guest just long enough to catch on to a 
few of the changes, then I made a dash for 
the prettiest Mexican lady on board the ship. 
Of course, 1 did not know her, and did not 
think it necessary that I should. Anyhow, 
she took my arm and we cake-walked around 
a couple of minutes, then took our position 
on the dance floor. We went through with 
the first change by the sound of a couple of 
blowing machines of some kind. 1 was, and 
had been, hugging up to the little brown lady 
quite closely, for she was, 1 thought, awfully 
nice, and could speak quite a good deal of 
broken English. That of course just suited 
me, and 1 stuck to her like a porous plaster. 
Presently I could see that a few of the roughs 
and toughs were becoming somewhat opposed 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 213 

to my staying qualities, but I kept up those 
same staying qualities just the same, and in 
going through with the latter part of the 
second change, some big fat Greaser tripped 
me and you should have seen me flatten 
out. And in that flatten out I struck the left 
side of my face and mouth on a chair that 
stood near by, knocking one tooth out 
and loosening two others. **Say, if there was 
ever a mad ex-barber it was Azariah Frejolity. " 
And the more my mouth swelled the angrier 
I became. Anyhow, I had the Greaser spotted 
that did the mischief, and was about to draw 
my forty-four gun on him, but for the little 
lady, she warned me not to do so as they 
would at once stab me to the heart and throw 
me overboard. Well, I did not care about 
any overboard business in mine, as 1 was 
looking for land, not water. Anyhow, the 
lady and 1 finished that dance together, after 
which I retired to my state-room, while the 
dance went merrily on. I, of course, had not 
been stabbed and was still on board the 
ship. While sitting in my state-room seeking 
revenge on that dance, a thought struck me 
that 1 had in my valise a small bit of Cay- 
enne pepper that I used occasionally mixed up 
with hot water and sugar to warm up my 
stomach; as I was troubled at times with flat- 
ulency, and the hot tea warmed up that or- 



214 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

gan and gave me relief. I finally found the 
pepper and fixed it up in a way that it could 
be dusted over the dance floor easily, and I 
thought, without being detected by anyone. 
1 then hired a fearless half-breed Indian to do 
the dusting; paying him in advance with a 
nice bright two and one-half dollar gold coin, 
and with instructions how to operate, and if 
caught in the act, he would either be shot, 
stabbed or thrown overboard. All was ready 
and I once more returned to my little three 
by six and awaited the result. It was but a 
short time until that result came, and that that 
dance soon ended was a sure thing. It seemed, 
the way they were all sneezing, that the hay 
fever had struck the vessel about proper; and 
with the sneezing I could hear a fuss brew- 
ing, and it was waxing warm. In another 
short period of time I heard eight or ten shots 
fired in close succession, and by the hustle 
and bustle on that vessel 1 well knew that a 
fight was on. 1 thought to myself, "let her go 
Riley," I'll just stay right here in this little hole 
the balance of this eve. There I stood braced 
against that door, with my ear against that 
same door and my revolver in hand. It sounded 
like a part of the fight was working its way 
towards my room. "Well, say, I felt that 
same cord of wood moving up and down my 
back that I did in the different parts of the 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 215 

States, and on my way to Honduras, and at 
Honduras, and through Honduras, and any 
other duras." Anyhow, I stood there shaking 
like a Kansas blizzard, thinking every moment 
that they might come after me, but they did 
not. And as I had not quite shaken off my 
wardrobe, so thought I would leave it on and 
save me the bother of dressing a few hours 
later on. I reckon the fierce part of the fight 
lasted ten minutes, and from start to finish, 
one-half hour. I "sorter" cat napped it until I 
heard a call for breakfast; thinking a great 
deal of the time about the half-breed and what 
had become of him. Well, breakfast had been 
called and I felt just a little bit afraid to ven- 
ture out; fearing that some of those heathens 
might yet do me violence. However, I had 
my face fixed up for the occasion, with per- 
haps the same kind of stuff that some of those 
Greasers had; especially my mouth. I did 
finally venture out, and the first thing that I 
did was to make a bee-line for the dining- 
room, and while eating, made it a point to 
catch onto as much of the conversation as 
possible concerning the battle. It seemed as 
though it was fierce and to a finish. I felt 
sure that the half-breed had come out of that 
fight with less corpuscles than when he en- 
tered the ring; anyhow, I would soon see. I 
finished my breakfast, then leisurely strolled 



216 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

over the vessel taking in the sights, while I 
suppose 1 myself was a sight of amusement 
to the other sight seekers. "And say, of all the 
skinned and bunged up faces that I ever looked 
at, I saw on that vessel. Of course, I was 
right in line, but a beaut by the side of some 
of them. It looked as though they had seized 
some village circus tent and used it for court 
plaster. I thought of Mail Pouch and Polar* 
Bear advertisements on the barns in the States." 
I finally met the half-breed that I gave the 
gold coin to for doing the mischief, and he 
had come out of that fight with both eyes 
swelled shut and as black as my eyes were 
the time 1 got hit square between them at St. 
Louis with a base ball. 1 guess 1 was trying 
to give them the squalling act and did not 
get out of the way soon enough, or the ball 
came in ahead of time; I don't know which; 
neither did I care. There were two Mexicans 
shot and thrown overboard, while two others 
were seriously injured by knife wounds, and 
from the City of Mexico. The fifth man took 
all of his out in bumps. He was a Spaniard 
and from Havana, Cuba. All three of the in- 
jured men were bound for San Diego, Cali- 
fornia. I steered clear of the little Mexican 
lady after that fight, and all the pleasure that 
we experienced thereafter was done by an 
eyeball focus. On my trip through the States 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 217 

I met and formed the acquaintance and friend- 
ship of two jolly good fellows. Their names 
were Boliver and Chink-eye. How often I 
thought of them and wished that they could 
have been with me from the Atlantic to the 
Pacific Ocean. And especially from the time 
I left San Jose, Guatamala, until 1 reached San 
Dieffo, California. If such could have been the 
case, 1 am sure the monotony of that trip would 
have been broken. For, I believe, we three 
stars with clubs and bars, would have talked, 
motioned and hammered into some of their 
tropical knots the art of American manners. 
And I am hoping that 1 may at sometime not 
far distant meet them again. I loved them 
dearly, and would do the same by them as I 
would a brother. 

My ticket to San Francisco and my cabin 
home in the country twelve miles from San 
Diego, did not correspond to suit me. When 
I purchased that ticket, it was my desire to 
once more visit the Golden City, but the dis- 
tance still being so far, I decided to sell my 
ticket and stop off at San Diego. I was get- 
ting very anxious to get back to my cabin 
home, for, I felt and knew, that there was no 
spot on earth sweeter to me than ''home 
sweet home." We landed at San Diego on 
Wednesday evening at about nine o'clock, and 
the wounded men were not yet able to walk 



218 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

from the vessel to a place of staying, and 
were carried on stretchers to, I suppose, some 
Good Samaritan Inn. I made no inquiry about 
them, for I did not care. Those fellows were 
too treacherous for my generosity or curiosity. 
I did though, bid my hired man, or the half- 
breed Indian a friendly good-bye; and with a 
present of a five dollar bill. He thanked me 
for it and said, "Well, Mr. Frejolity, I hope 
your pathway through life may be strewn 
with flowers, and that you may live long and 
prosper." I thought that pretty good language 
for him to use, as he did not look it; but I 
thanked him and said, that some time in the 
future, I hoped, we would meet again. We 
then parted. And had we both remained on 
that vessel, and had I gotten into trouble of 
any kind, I know I would have had a friend 
in that same Indian. I did not wait until 
morning to go home, ''Oh, no;" but hired a 
swift livery team to take me out, and a per- 
fect gentleman for the driver. My parents did 
not know of my coming and I would surely 
give them a big surprise. We reached my 
little cabin home about 1 1 :^o P. M. I settled 
with the driver, and bidding him good-night 
he went his way. On reaching the door I 
stopped to listen, all was quiet within. I 
then gave three distinct taps on that same 
door. " Hello," came a voice. ** Who is there? " 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 219 

"Azariah Frejolity," said I. 

**AI1 right," said Pap, and the quietness of 
that home had made somewhat of a change. 
I thought by the sound that father and mother 
had fallen over all the chairs, tables and boxes 
in the cabin. They, together, did get a tallow 
candle lighted, then the door swung open and 
in stepped Frejolity Jr., with his little valise. 
They kissed me, patted me on the back, 
smoothed down my coat and acted Hke little 
children. Every once in a while mother would 
pull off, I thought, a couple of inches of 
burned candle wicking, then we would have 
a little brighter light for a while. Well, after 
the excitement had died down somewhat, 
mother grabbed the old-fashioned iron tea- 
kettle, and must make her boy a cup of good 
strong tea, and eat the same kind of a lunch that 
I used to in days gone by. I did not object, 
for I well knew that I would appreciate any- 
thing that mother would set before me. We 
remained up all night, and when daylight 
came, mother asked me if I had anything 
special in my mind that I would like to have 
for breakfast. 'Tes, mother, I have. Let's 
have some of the old-fashioned corn-cakes, 
and a good supply of nice yellow butter to 
slide them down to their destination." Mother 
favored me, and I felt some of them going 



220 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

down my neck full size. They were good be- 
cause mother had made them; and made them 
as she did when 1 was a boy. Old-fashioned, 
you know, not so now; some smart pastry 
cook has changed the ingredients in the 
recipe, as the old-fashioned way did not prey 
severely enough on the interior of chicken 
gizzards, 1 suppose, to suit the doctors. 
Well, after breakfast we walked out and over 
the little farm. Everything looked just as 
grand as it ever did. And why not? Father 
was a man who never made improvements 
for style, and old-fashioned like I saw the 
farm and its grand foliage once more. 

On our return to the house a large long 
legged rooster crossed our path with such re- 
markable speed that I could not help but 
notice it. And father remarked, that nothing 
but a bullet could catch that fellow, and that 
if he had his rifle he would give him a whirl. 
At that 1 offered him my forty-four revolver that 
I carried all the way from Boston to San Diego, 
California, for my protection in case I needed 
such. Father would not use the revolver and 
insisted that 1 try my skill on Mr. Rooster. 
So mother started him our way, and the way 
he came was awful. When he had gotten 
within a distance of ten yards of me, I blazed 
away, catching him in the neck. A chance 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 221 

shot, for I was no marksman. Anyhow, he 
stopped, and father thought I was a Buffalo 
Bill. We had him for our dinner for our stom- 
achs' sake, and especially, so mother said, for 
her prodigal son. A roasted rooster instead 
of a fatted calf. My, but it was rich and 
juicy. To tell the truth about it, my appetite 
had no choice of foods, everything went down 
just the same to me. Well, after I had been 
at home about three weeks I received a draft 
from Mr. Rollins for ten thousand dollars for 
the real estate that 1 had left in his care, and 
with instructions for him to send me that 
amount, and all over that belonged to him. I 
do not know how much he made, neither do 
I care. 1 was having troubles enough for the 
kind that they were. Anyhow, after receiv- 
ing that draft 1 became very restless and un- 
easy, and, that roaming disposition came back 
to me again. I tried my very best, but could 
not feel contented. My mind continually wan- 
dered back to different cities and scenes of 
pleasure. And especially that country school- 
house out four miles from Boston. And that 
farmer's daughter, Glenn Holcumb. It had been 
some three years since we parted, and as I 
said before, my scalp was welcome to that 
lady at any old time. So 1 thought I would 
just write her a letter, make it short, sweet, 



222 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

and to the point. I addressed her in this 
way: 

San Diego, California, 
January 15th, 1901. 
Miss Glenn Holcumb, 

Boston, Mass. 
My sweet little lady, if you will allow me 
to call you such. 1 think when you read this 
letter and know that it is from Frejolity, you 
will be happily surprised. It has now been 
some three years since we parted, and you 
may be a married lady months gone by. If 
so, please take "it for granted that I was 
ignorant of the fact, and pardon me. Should 
it be otherwise, which 1 hope it is, then this 
letter may be a success, and 1 will be a much 
happier man. A part of those three years that 
we have been separated I lived and moved on 
water. That is, you know what 1 mean, 1 
was on a little canoe, it moved and so did I. 
1, of course, boarded on that same canoe, some- 
times, and some other times, 1 did not board 
on that same canoe, neither did 1 board on the 
water, and yet 1 was living on board. Now, 
my little darling, wasn't that nice ? I don't 
think 1 was troubled so much with uncer- 
tainties, and at the same time, 1 had enough 
certainties. I knew that 1 was on the vessel, 
I also knew that there were white, brown and 
black squalls, for 1 heard them squalling, 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 223 

especially during the storms. My success in 
Central America was sweeter than honey and 
the honey comb, and I am now, as you are 
aware, at my Httle cabin home in Southern 
California, and but a short distance from the 
sad ocean waves, where I shall remain till the 
end of time; that is, my time. I have pur- 
chased a little farm that has soil for any and 
all purposes, and with a pretty little cottage 
on that same farm, just your size; that is, you 
are small, so is the cottage. We can raise 
plenty of good material to eat on the farm, 
and then some. I suppose you have not for- 
gotten about the night that Chink-eye and I 
took tea at your home, as that is the stylish 
way of putting it ? But we, Chink-eye and 
myself, always called them fillers. 1 so often 
thought of our few minutes of secret conver- 
sation on that eventful night, and that beauti- 
ful April shower that we thought had, or 
would lengthen itself out into the month of 
May. Your father's pants, and the bean soil 
that I carried into Boston on them. I left or- 
ders with Chink-eye to have those pants nicely 
cleaned up and returned to your father with 
many thanks. He promised that he would 
attend to that for me. But above all in my 
good time experience, was that of Master 
Joseph Stubbs on "Marco Bozzaris." It was 
rather the richest piece of laughable oratory 



224 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

that I ever experienced and has brought to my 
mind many times since many happy recollec- 
tions. By the way, does that young orator 
still reside in that niche of woods ? If so, I 
hope I may have the pleasure of listening to a 
little more of his oratory before I retire from 
this world. And still another pleasure of more 
importance, which is this, I am now ready 
and so fixed financially to retire to a married 
man's life, and am wanting a sweet little com- 
panion, like yourself; and if your love for me 
is strong enough to bear with me the pleas- 
ures and displeasures, famines, pestilences, 
panics and any and all troubles that come and 
go with husband and wife, you are mine. 
Please give this proposal sufficient thought and 
report to me at once. With love and best 
wishes to you, and that the result of your 
meditations may prove to be a joy to us both 
forever. Awaiting your answer, and if it says, 
** Yours till death," it will bring me to you at 
the speed of a jack-rabbit, and then some. And 
ere long we will be sitting cosily together on 
a little rustic tete, down by a little shady 
stream fishing for mullet heads. Tiring of that, 
thence to our cosy little porch on our little 
cottage home on the farm. I'll teach you all 
about fishing and hunting down the fowls of 
the air, and of course, as you are a little 
flower girl, we have thsm here galore, with 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 225 

all varieties. And we will try to our utmost 
to live out our remaining days together on 
Easy Street. With kindest regards to the 
family, and a sweet little kiss for yourself, 1 
remain lovingly, Azariah Frejolity, 

San Diego, California. 

In just three weeks I had a reply from my 
little one, and all was as lovely as a rose with 
her. She agreed to share one-half and more, 
if need be, of the troubles that might fall to 
our lot. Let them be good, bad or indifferent. 
And that I should speed my way at my con- 
venience. 1 did so, and just as quick as 1 
could push a pair of pants and shirt into my 
little vahse. Father and mother knew of my 
intentions, and took me to the station. After 
bidding me good-bye, and wishing me the 
best of success, we parted. On arriving at 
Boston City, the first thing 1 did was to look 
up my old friend Chink-eye. I soon found 
him, and he was still scraping off lather; 
when he saw me, I thought he would fall 
dead, but he did not. When 1 told him of 
my mission, he was so overjoyed and became 
so nervous that one of the other men finished 
his man. 1 found, during my absence, that 
the rascal had married Glenn's sister, Fairy. 
We had a great plenty to talk about, and no 
time was lost. On the following day which 
15 



226 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

was Thursday, I started for Glenn's home. I 
soon landed on the spot, and as happ}^ as a 
yellow hammer. So was Glenn. Her father 
met me at the end of the street car line with 
a horse and carriage, and a smile on his face 
as long as a rail. At the gateway the other 
members of the family greeted me likewise. 
And Glenn, to cap the climax, gave me a 
couple of those old-fashioned spelHng school 
kisses, that made me feel as though my mis- 
sion here on this earth had been fulfilled. 1 had 
made up my mind that by a little hustling 
Glenn could get ready for the ceremony on the 
coming Sunday evening, and that we could 
start for San Diego on the following Monday 
morning. All was right with Glenn. She 
would be ready when the time arrived for the 
ceremony to take place. We all pitched into 
the work like a lot of hungry students into a 
dish of oat meal. And by 10:30 P. M. on 
Saturday night all was ready for the occasion. 
But it left the sewing-machine a complete 
wreck. On Sunday morning we all got ready 
and went to church in the country, and by 
the way, who did I see but that orator, Joseph 
Stubbs. He still remembered me and the 
time I told him to call it a hog and go on. 
We laughed it over and parted as friends. 
Our marriage was to take place at 8 P. M., 
and at 7 P. M. all the looking glasses from 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 227 

that of a large French plate to a vest-pocket 
mirror were at a premium. It reminded me 
very much of the time I was watching and 
waiting for Clara and Mae Seymouth at Kings- 
ton, Jamaica. Of course, I was not so much 
interested in that affair as I was in this. You 
see, in this case it was two hearts that beat 
as one, and in the Kingston case it was to 
look sweet. They were pretty and that means 
sweet. I detained the ceremony, perhaps, 
fifteen minutes, as I had purchased for this 
occasion a laundered shirt, and the bosom and 
back of that shirt had been starched and 
pressed together as if glued. I, of course, 
being a little excited, experienced considerable 
trouble in getting that shirt ready, and getting 
into that same shirt. In trying to pull the 
two parts apart, I tore it from center to cir- 
cumference, but with a superhuman effort I 
got the garment pinned together, into it and 
out of it as soon as an opportunity was given 
me. " Gee! but those pins were great stickers." 
On the following morning another scene took 
place. Good-byes, with sighs and cries. 1 
could not blame them for they loved their 
daughter and sister, and so did I. And for 
her to go from Boston to San Diego, Gal., 
not knowing whether they would ever see each 
other again, hurt them. But I promised them 
that I would give Glenn a happy home, and 



228 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

that we would return and pay them a visit in 
a few short years. The brother had driven up 
to the gate with the carriage, and in five 
minutes more we would be off for the station. 
The crying and hugging was fierce, and 
Chink-eye stood there like a marble statue. 1 
looked at him and said, " Well, brother 
Chink-eye, do you think that you will lather 
and shave long enough that you will make 
the turn from that of a barber to an old Gray 
horse?" 

"1 really don't know," said he, "But 1 
think if I should attend many occasions of this 
kind, 1 would turn into a shaving horse." 

''Well, Chink-eye," said 1, "If you ever 
make that turn, leave orders to be shipped by 
express C. O. D. to Azariah Frejolity, San 
Diego, Cahfornia, and I'll feed you on the fat 
of the land." At that remark all was ready 
to start, and we four and the brother stepped 
into the carriage and were off, leaving father 
and mother Savers standing at the gate of 
their beautiful country home in tears. We 
arrived at the station just in time to make me 
hustle and bustle for our tickets. I bought 
them through to our destination, but to stop 
off at any city we might see fit. With a 
quick shake of the hand all around, and with 
a few kisses we were off for the Golden State 
of California, Glenn's new home. The first 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 229 

city that we stopped off at was New York. 
We saw piles of the coin of the realm in the 
windows. We did not see Jollie, Hannah, or 
the white fish, neither did we see rats, roosters 
or the Yucon River. When we arrived at 
Philadelphia, I told my wife (*' gee-whiz, but 
that sounds funny, my wife"), that this was a 
city of pigtails, bullets and kickers, and to 
keep her eye on the indicator. Our next stop 
was at Baltimore, and we were lifted off the 
coach by a big Irish conductor, maybe that 
suited my wife, but it made Azariah feel re- 
vengeful. I told my wife that Baltimore was 
a city with Billy-goats in it; and that I had 
taken the royal bumper degree, and that it 
killed Billy. There were also hair pullers, 
thieves and whangdoodles in that city, and to 
keep her right eye on her little pocket satchel. 
At Washington, D. C, Mrs. Frejolity said, 
"Azariah, how do you like this city?" To 
this I replied, *'Out of sight; lots of pretty 
ladies in this city, in fact t\v^ Lord has 
scattered them promiscuously for the barbers 
and ex-barbers in this land of the free and 
home of the brave." This remark caused her 
to become a little warm around the collar, 
and was ready to start for Cincinnati, Ohio. 
We did not go to New Orleans, as it was 
somewhat out of our route. Anyhow, when 
we arrived at Cincinnati, I remarked to my 



230 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

angel wife, for that she was, "That in this 
city they manufactured corn-husker barbers, 
arrested people for protecting themselves, and 
their sister city, Covington, Ky., sold old 
mother Lenox's soap-suds for soda water, and 
used pear trees for stoppers for wild gorillas 
like myself. She laughed and said, "Azariah, 
are you losing your mind?" Of course, I 
mentioned to her of Hortense Austin, and 
myself going to Cedar Point and Hortense fill- 
ing in on too much lake water, and the little 
Indian Village of Upper Sandusky, Ohio. 
Well, Chicago would be our next place of 
stopping, and when our train pulled into In- 
dianapolis, my wife said, "Say, Azariah, where 
are we now ? " 

*'Well," said I, this is Indianapolis, a beau- 
tiful city, a city where policemen are police- 
men from their birth. There used to be a lady 
in this city by the name of Morarity, and one 
night there was a man concealed himself be- 
hind a large crimson rambler and looking for 
her homely mug, when all of a sudden that 
same man went out from behind that rambler 
like a bung out of a barrel. Then I heard 
Miss Morarity squalling (from an upstairs win- 
dow), "Aurevoir Rhiney, Aurevoir." Old con- 
gress shoes took an active part in that race 
and Frejolity once more shook his trilbies. 
Our next round-up was at Chicago, the second 



WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 131 

city, I think in the world. I told my wife of 
the large brainless feet in that city and that 
boisterous board of trade. Of the old Gray 
turn that was killed by a street car, and that 
his hair was parted in the middle. She 
laughed and said, "Well, Azariah, with all 
your faults, 1 love you still." 

On arriving at St. Louis, 1 felt sad at heart, 
knowing that in this city was where 1 lost 
my friend Shorty. But consoling myself with 
the thought that he would never have to eat 
hay. My wife thought we had gotten about 
far enough from Boston, and proposed that 
we settle down in St. Louis. 1 said, "Oh, 
my, we can't do that, who would feed the 
little chickies way down by the sad ocean 
waves?" She smiled and gave me one of 
those sweet kisses. "Say, my wife, isn't for 
sale or trade, and 1 shall always remain true 
to her, and the bean soil of Massachusetts." 
We stopped at Denver for two days, and that 
beautiful city with its intelligent and sociable 
humanity almost blasted our noodles. We 
finally reached San Francisco, where we re- 
mained three days. At this city we purchased 
the most of our out-fit for our Httle home on 
the farm, and having a jolly good time with 
many new acquaintances and old friends. 
Our next stopping place would be San Diego, 
just twelve miles from the farm. 1 had tele- 



232 WHAT BECOMES OF OLD BARBERS 

graphed father to meet us at the station with 
a conveyance. He was there with the old 
black mare and a humpbacked phaeton. And 
to say that father and mother were happy over 
my choice of Glenn for my companion through 
life, is putting it mild. I thought that they 
loved her more than they did their son Aza- 
riah, but concluded it was all imagination on 
my part. The farm that I had purchased lay 
adjoining my father's in what is called out 
here the Pacific Beach. The wild flowers were 
blooming, the bees were humming, the sweet 
songs of the birds in the bush, and the change 
of climate, were pleasures untold to my little 
wife, Glenn Frejolity. And that she loves her 
new home is shown by her smiles and caresses, 
and we are now living as happily together as 
two bugs in a jug. I am, 

Yours truly, 

AzARiAH Frejolity. 



Price $ 1 .00, po^paid 

I WILL send this volume 
postpaid to any address 
on receipt of price. 

fl Send all orders by po^al 

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WM. A. AUGUSTINE 

Carey, Ohio 



C 310 88 




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BINDERY INC. |§ 

^^ AUG 88 

^by N. MANCHESTER, I 



